Forging a Destiny
by phyreblade
Summary: Lord Lusiel, Sith Warrior, strives to prove herself, to create a legacy, to cast her name down in the annals. Follows the story line created by Bioware for the Sith Warrior class. F/SW with Quinn love interest. Other characters will be considered as story progresses. Rated M, of course.
1. Chapter 1

_**NOTE: All characters are the sole property of Bioware and EA, no matter how much I might wish otherwise.**_

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Vette followed along behind her Sith – and when did she start thinking of the Sith as hers, anyway – emerging from the confines of the spaceport into the muggy heat of the battle-torn planet called Balmorra. She sniffed delicately, eyeing the towering artillery guns with horrible trepidation, mumbling morosely, "I hope they don't have to shoot those things while we're here." Lusiel glanced at her, offering a small twisted smile, before turning once again to continue striding forward.

Vette sighed, utterly certain she would never understand the Sith. She'd seen Lusiel perform disgusting acts, even been on the receiving end of them, frowning briefly as she rubbed her neck where the shocks from the collar still stung her memory. Yet the Sith continued to confound her, providing brief glimpses of decency and honor, too, enough Vette was utterly confounded what Lusiel was really all about. Vette had thought several times Lusiel acted as she did only to confuse her poor Twi-lek sensibilities, to keep her on her toes. Maybe the Sith was determined to keep everyone wondering, Vette thought.

Lusiel didn't stop long enough to soothe Vette's confusion, either. Within the hour of arriving at Balmorra, she had a turncoat tortured by Imperials and then framed rebels for the killing of a Chiss delegate, only to turn and ask Vette, with pure and unfettered pleasure, "How about a drink, since we're already in the cantina? What would you like, Vette?" The Twi-lek grinned at the utter incongruity, before cheerfully ordering her favorite beverage, knowing the Sith could afford the expensive liquor, before glancing around with interest at the busy cantina. Beside her, Lusiel sipped a fruity concoction, sighing with some degree of happiness.

"I just don't get you at all," Vette said, finally.

"What do you mean?" Lusiel was genuinely confused by the remark. She had long thought herself to be very honest in her dealings, even blunt. Yet here was Vette, making a remark she'd heard countless times, enough she was prepared to stomp a foot in disgust. What was there to get that she wasn't demonstrating in every action she took?

"Well, you have to admit you're hard to really understand sometimes."

"No, I'm not! Why does everyone say that? I'm the easiest person in the world to understand!"

"Are we talking about the same Sith, here? Lord Lusiel, apprentice to Darth Baras? The same Lord Lusiel who can swipe her saber against some poor sod and then turn around and pat a sad guard who cries over the body of a dead apprentice? That Lord Lusiel?"

Lusiel frowned. "Vemrin was not worthy of the name Sith. He failed. Failure can't be tolerated. If the failed are allowed to succeed, it weakens the Empire as a whole. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't sorrow or mourn them when they fail."

Vette sat back against the wall, slightly stunned. It occurred to her Lusiel took great strides in every choice she made to make the absolute right choice. By whatever measure she used to gauge right and wrong, of course. Vette was pretty certain Lusiel's concept of right and proper behavior was a far cry from her own, anyway. But she wasn't like so many Sith Vette had considered over the past several months, those who insanely delighted in using their power against others without regard for the consequence. No, Lusiel was determined, focused. She knew exactly what she was doing and where she was headed, even if she didn't share such knowledge with her Twi-lek companion.

Vette thought of the first words Lusiel had ever said to her, the cold and dispassionate tone she used as she pressed the button that activated the shock collar around Vette's neck. She had thought her a typical Sith in that moment. But it occurred to her the smelly jailor had thought the same thing, certainly. When she'd later removed the collar, Lusiel reminded Vette of her place, told her that the role of slave was one that provided her some protection and safety in the Empire. And she wondered how often Lusiel acted to provide that blanket of security, portrayed herself a typical Sith, only to keep those around them in their own "typical" place. There was some protection in the "typical", after all.

"What would that Imperial officer have thought if you just trusted the turncoat," Vette wondered aloud.

"She would have thought me weak, a Sith to be manipulated or used. She may have made mention of my supposed weakness to other Sith, so that word reached the ears of my Master. Weakness, even if only in appearance, can be acted upon. It is essential no one ever believe me weak, else I spend the whole of my life fighting to prove otherwise. Even I can't fight everyone."

"Wow. Haven't you ever wanted to just be normal?"

"Vette, that isn't ever going to happen. So, no, I've never wanted it. Why desire something impossible?"

"So what do you want?"

Lusiel chuckled. "Right now, I want to finish this delightful drink, before getting back to the task at hand. I can't imagine there's anything on this sorry rock of a world I could ever really want, anyway."

Vette laughed along with her, as they gathered up their things and headed back into the madness of a Sith's life. She was still thinking of the conversation as they entered the military compound in search of Baras' contact on Balmorra, the Imperial officer he called Quinn. And she thought how incredibly ironic it was, as she watched Lusiel's face during that first meeting. She would joke, later, how funny it was, as if some old Gods had laughed themselves silly at Lusiel's expense after she'd made such remarks. Because, Vette would always say, it was obvious from the start Lusiel would always want Quinn more than she desired some fruit cocktail.


	2. Chapter 2

Years afterward, Malavai Quinn would describe to his small and curious daughter the first moment he laid eyes on her mother, watch her dark eyes, so similar to Lusiel's, widen and glisten with wonderment. He would tell her of Lusiel's beautiful features, of the chocolate depths inherent in her eyes, the way her ebony-colored hair was gathered up and tied in a silky, gorgeous mass, and how her skin, creamy and smooth, invited soft touches and easy glances. He would speak of the richness of her voice, the strength so inherent in her character that showed in every word she shared. But, mostly, he would tell his child how it was he knew, seeing her, that his life would never be the same again after that.

He certainly did not describe to his daughter how his body grew hard and tight as Lusiel first strode into the room. It wasn't desire, he told himself during the moments that followed, and never mind how exquisite he thought the Sith really was. No, of course not. Because there simply was no reason to even consider such a chance and possibility. She was Sith, to be respected and admired, but never HAD. He mentally shook himself.

Lusiel was actually watching Quinn's inept subordinate scamper from the room like a tired little rodent terrified it was soon to be eaten. Which, truth told, Quinn was tempted to do. Well, not eat the man. But ruin or destroy him, certainly. His fool actions had resulted in the loss of a nearby patrol through a sector once thought to be secure. The idiot had failed to consider more recent reports and relied upon outdated information, resulting in the deaths of several Imperial soldiers who's lives, Quinn now believed, were far more worthwhile than that of the fool now rushing to leave the room. He snorted, watching him go, wishing he'd at least shown greater spine in the face of Quinn's angry discontent.

Then Lusiel turned to regard Quinn himself, a brief light sparking her dark eyes, and Quinn gathered himself once again. Her lips curled up into a polite smile as he introduced himself. For a brief moment, Quinn wondered over the description Darth Baras had initially provided of his apprentice. "She's dark, quite willful, definitely strong but, still, young and impetuous, prone to bluntness – I doubt you'll like her much, Quinn. She's far too wild a thing for you to appreciate." Dark was certainly a good word to describe her, he thought. Her eyes were pools of darkness, in fact, the sort that tempted, like chocolate. But there was more, there, too. Like gazing into a swirling mass of dark water, wondering at the depths. Focus, Malavai, he thought firmly.

"Lieutenant Malavai Quinn, my lord. I am to act as your liaison here on Balmorra," Quinn spoke quickly, trying to gather his straying thoughts towards the task at hand. The niggling worry over how to handle a Sith described by her own master as "wild a thing" and "impetuous" he planted firmly in mind.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Quinn," she nodded at him in return, her tone warm and inviting. He caught the Twi-lek companion following the Sith shooting her a quick, surprised glance. Somehow the Sith had acted out of character. He wondered what she'd done or said that was … strange. She certainly did not seem prone to wild fits, at least. She even remained attentive as he described the strategic situation on the planet, declaring firmly how important it was the Republic's interests on the world be ruined, an attitude he greatly approved. All right, he thought. He needed to recall Baras' own doubts in regards his apprentice and calculate her potential to succeed at the task the Sith master had described, accordingly. Still, he wanted Lusiel to impress him, and he scolded himself, mentally, for having such desires. Desire … Quinn watched Lusiel, as she withdrew, intent on carrying Quinn's bomb to its intended target, the Twi-lek girl following her and providing some pithy remarks about the climate of the planet, of all things. Who talked to a Sith about the weather, after all? And why didn't Lusiel respond with some sharp retort or painful twist of the idiot girl's lekku?

Indeed, Lord Lusiel did not behave as he thought a Sith would, which actually added to her allure. No, Quinn thought. Lord Lusiel was hardly a typical Sith.


	3. Chapter 3

"You do realize, right, that that Imperial back there was just – oh, what's the word? – blown away, perhaps. Why didn't you treat him like you do most Imperials?" Vette clambered over the rocks and depressions made by years of combat, paying close attention to Lusiel's motions around the ravaged terrain. The Sith, at least, had an advantage in finding the safest course through the havoc. That Sithy force thing, she thought.

Lusiel glanced back at her, briefly. "What do you mean? I'm polite to most Imperials."

"Polite? Is that what that was? I mean, heck, yea, I've seen you polite plenty of times. But back there? Geez, you were NICE to the guy!"

Lusiel stopped, turning to look at Vette, and the confusion on her face was actually funny enough Vette grinned wickedly at her. She even guessed what would come out of the Sith's mouth next. Hey, Vette, she told herself, you just might be getting the hang of this Sith, after all.

"Explain what you mean. I would think that being polite is, indeed, very nice. Isn't it?"

Vette actually laughed. Out loud. Lusiel was even more confused, which sent Vette into further gales of whooping laughter. It wasn't until the Sith frowned at her, firmly, that Vette finally choked back her guffaws to sputter out an understandable response.

"Forgive me, my lord. Yes, being polite is very nice. But I could tell being polite to that particular Imperial pleased you, that you wanted to make him … happy? Heck, you liked him! That's what it was! I couldn't figure it out before but that's honestly what it was! You _like_ Quinn!"

Lusiel pursed her lips, considering. "He impressed me." She shrugged nonchalantly. Then, Lusiel shot Vette a wicked look of her own. "Perhaps it was his eyes. Blue eyes like that are what's really NICE," she drawled. Actually drawled.

Vette broke down, laughing, once again. "Only you would find a stiff board of a man like that good to look at," Vette chuckled.

"Just look at? Ah, Vette. Let's not limit our considerations, here."

"Ah, no, my lord, not me, thank you very much. I leave it to you to think about _touching_ Mr. stick-up-his-backside. Ewww."

Lusiel chuckled at Vette's sneering shudders, before returning to her course. Up ahead, she could discern the compound the pair were looking for, with a number of droids and guards gathered around the entrance. Such security was unusual, making the place far too tempting a target.

Lusiel shook her head against such an obvious miscalculation. When trying to hide something, you didn't announce its importance to the entirety of your enemies, after all. What was worse, none of the security the Republic fools had put in place was even vaguely adequate. In just minutes, made up of some small spattering of shouts from dying guards and flying sparks from a few dozen droids, Lusiel was standing in front of the doors of the compound, coolly, not even watching Vette manipulate the door's computer, holding her lightsaber with an utterly calm, composed hand, as she waited for the doors to open and the real fight to commence.


	4. Chapter 4

"You will continue monitoring our surveillance of the Republic control tower as my apprentice's attack commences, Quinn. Make sure I am kept apprised of her progress. I will need to address her once she has placed the explosive," Darth Baras' holographic image twinkled against Quinn's computer console.

"Of course, my lord. I am already monitoring the station, watching for your apprentice," Quinn assured the Sith lord. He paused, frowning as he watched the interior of the Republic facility using the security cameras the Empire had tapped into and counted the number of troops and droids in the rooms and around the console Lusiel was supposed to reach.

"You appear concerned, Quinn. There is no need," Baras asserted, sounding amused.

Quinn was uncertain. Sith objectives were often hard to discern and he did not wish to presume to understand what Darth Baras was truly focused on accomplishing here on Balmorra. When Baras asked for privacy in order to address his apprentice, Quinn understood Baras' intentions for the mission were greater than Quinn was being told.

"I wish to properly calculate your apprentice's chance at success, so as to mitigate any challenge as it arises, my lord," Quinn responded, assuredly.

"My apprentice has prevailed in situations I thought would be unduly difficult, however, so I have no doubt she will easily overcome this current challenge," Baras admitted.

Darth Baras frowned, although the gesture remained obscured by his mask. But Lusiel's growing strength and abilities remained of primary concern, Baras thought. He recalled her approach into his office grasping the prized Ravager she had ripped from the blackest reaches of the Dark Temple, even after he had assumed her incapable of surviving the effort. It was not the first time she had surprised him, no. But it was at that moment, looking at her standing there, unconcernedly, as if the malevolence implicit in the Temple had proved insignificant to her, that Baras had been suddenly sure this was the apprentice capable of dooming him. Her strength and power was immense already. Given time, she would prove unstoppable.

For now, Lusiel was absolutely necessary. Nomen Karr needed to be destroyed, the threat he posed was far greater than that of a young, growing apprentice. But Baras knew it would not be long before he needed to destroy Lusiel, as well.

"My lord, your apprentice has arrived at the facility. She is breaching the doors now. She is ..." Quinn's voice tapered off as he watched the scene unfold.

The doors opened and the Sith moved forward, swinging her lightsaber in what seemed near gentle arcs they were such singularly elegant motions, until the screams and shouts assured her the enemy she battled was down and she moved on to the next. She almost appeared to be dancing, her battle rhythm was so sinuous, so fluid a thing. She never paused, never showed concern or doubt, just pressed forward, always forward, while all around her Republic soldiers and droids collapsed in sodden heaps of blood and wires. Behind her came Vette, providing a constant barrage of covering fire, keeping enemies pinned long enough for the Sith to approach and destroy them.

It was a smooth and awe-inspiring display of synchronization between the two. But it was the Sith's own controlled motions that truly impressed. Quinn felt himself hardening again as he watched her, her legs firmly planted through her swings and her torso twisting in precise and controlled movements, thrusting her breasts upwards into hard, perfect mounds every time she raised her lightsaber. She was an extraordinary example of Imperial might and glory, a sight to behold, beauty in sheer power.

"Now that, boyo, is a Sith," one of the soldiers behind Quinn breathed to his companions, awed. The remark brought Quinn back to a semblance of reality. He had a job to do, and he looked back towards his men.

"Be ready! They'll reach the control room very quickly at this rate," Quinn barked out the order, watching them only long enough to assure they were focused on the task at hand once again. He could not help but return to his consideration of the Sith's progress, however, and he remained fixated on Lusiel's progress as she moved from room to room, heading unerringly towards her objective.

Baras chuckled, darkly. "She is succeeding, I take it."

"Yes, my lord," Quinn responded, almost as an aside, never taking his eyes from the monitors. Baras felt vague surprise at the intensity of Quinn's consideration, it was so unusual for him. He widened his perception, reaching out with the force to best divine what compelled the officer in that moment, a skill Baras had brought to almost perfection over the years, far beyond that of most Sith. He utilized the ability to discern the best means by which to manipulate his precious tools throughout the varied landscapes of power, whether in the Empire or the Republic. And he was certain his abilities in this regard were without match. No one and nothing would threaten all he'd managed to accomplish. Least of all some fool Padawan to a damned Jedi Knight who'd long bedeviled him.

Lusiel herself had guessed quickly where Baras' skill was strongest, a somewhat amazing feat in such a young, inexperienced Sith, actually. Normally, by the time a subject was aware of Baras' tenacious ability towards manipulation, he'd already measured their weaknesses enough to methodically and systematically compel them as he himself chose. But Lusiel had countered Baras time and again, only remaining unfailingly obvious in her disdain and disgust of him. Initially, her temerity proved amusing. Over time, however, Baras realized the real weapon her open emotions proved to be, as she used them to hinder his ability to exploit and control her. When it was difficult for him to discern her lies, hidden and obscured as they were by the truth of her disgust and upset, it was possible for her to neatly skirt aside Baras' attempts to block her into any one particular place. An incredibly admirable will, yes. And a dangerous one. Baras was increasingly wary.

Quinn, however, had absolutely no defense against Baras' force abilities, most especially after several years of similar encounters, and he easily discerned the emotional state in which the Lieutenant struggled, a tumult of fascinated attraction and simmering desires. Baras was amused, if only because Quinn was typically aloof and even taciturn when it came to romantic entanglements. He was not adverse to female companionship, but he had forged no lasting commitments to anyone, tending to regard women with a sort of bored detachment. For Quinn, women were little more than a minor diversion from his work, no matter how intensely attractive they found him. Yet here Quinn wrestled with what Baras sensed was a budding absorption in one particular female. Interesting, he thought. Very interesting, indeed.

"My lord, your apprentice has reached the control room and is placing the explosive now," Quinn asserted.


	5. Chapter 5

Lusiel approached the boy locked in his silly little cage. She could see the cyborg moving closer, asking him to repeat his assertion about his father's work with the Empire. Zixx. Who would think to call a cyborg Zixx? It sounded like something you'd stencil on the side of machine, anyway, and she suddenly pictured a box being offloaded from a transport, big letters reading ZIXX written on the side. She very nearly laughed. Nearly.

Instead, she provided the cyborg some support in his query. Never let anyone call her less than helpful, she thought merrily.

"Yes, please, repeat that, Junior. We're all ears."

Of course, the cyborg was less than pleased with her assistance, turning around to demand answers from her, instead. Wasn't he interested in what the silly boy had said? She felt her mouth twitch. Lusiel opted to play one of her oldest, dearest, and favorite games. If she managed to get through this entirely amusing episode without laughing, she would win. Let the fun ensue, she mentally grinned.

The boy very nearly lost her the game right away, though, as he sputtered, "It's not a … a … who! It's a what ... a … SITH!" Lusiel bit the inside of her lip in desperation when Zixx glanced back at the boy with a certain degree of disgust.

"He's going to need a new pair of pants," Lusiel pointed at the boy.

How disappointing. Once again, the cyborg provided an inane response. Didn't the fellow have any sense of humor at all? "Who cares what Durmat needs. You gave me enough time to get what I need." Poor Vette just groaned. Lusiel literally rolled her eyes at the Twi-lek. As if fighting soldiers every step of the way was somehow not going to happen on this little adventure her less than delightful master, Baras, had tasked them with. Killing the son of her ultimate target. To her, he still appeared a boy, even if he was wearing a Republic uniform, wildly clutching the bars of the cage. She remembered the young Jedi trapped and confused in the cage on Korriban all of a sudden. So young and pitiful, left to fail. The real failure, she thought disgustedly, was those who'd put them in such intenable positions. If only those were the ones she was tasked to destroy.

Like clockwork a number of very busy feet moving fast sounded behind her, as a Republic squad barreled into the room. Predictable, as usual. Lusiel sneered at the cyborg, remarking, "How do you think I got in here, hmm?" Zixx frowned. Maybe the joke had gone over his head.

Lusiel only shrugged, though, as she readied her saber and leaped into the fray. She could hear Vette behind her, blasters popping off wildly, as her lightsaber sang its song all around and through her. She allowed the rythm of the battle to fill her, to move as she sensed it needed to go, responding rapidly to the fluctuating motions of her opponents, steady, easy motions flowing, until all the soldiers lay dead at her feet and only the cyborg remained. He managed to at least get a shot off, and good for him, he should be righteously proud as he met his end. The shot itself went far to her left, singing the bars of one of the nearby and empty cages. Lusiel's lightsaber flashed dark red against his skin one final time, before he collapsed and everything was quiet again. Except for the boy, of course, who'd fallen to his knees in the cage, futilely reaching through its bars and begging the now dead Zixx to get up. Lusiel amusingly considered the very real box Zixx would soon be placed in. Would they stencil ZIXX on the side, she wondered.

Rather than laughing, though, Lusiel turned to face the boy, preparing to dispatch him, as he stumbled back to his feet. Really, he was lucky he was so small and skinny, because the cage they'd put him in was incredibly cramped, she thought suddenly. But he was sputtering.

"Please, please … I know why you're here. The Republic's investigating my dad and they're sending an agent here to question me. But I swear! I wont tell them nothing! I won't break, I won't! I'm a … gasp … a rock!"

"You must think I'm an idiot." Behind her, Vette snorted softly. Lusiel reminded herself of the game and resolutely ignored any attempt Vette might make to entice from her even a chuckle.

"Fine, I think you're an idiot. If you let me live, I'll think anything you want me to!"

Lusiel dug her teeth into her lip, certain she would lose it right then and there. Worse, the boy continued.

"My father's done so much for the Empire. Maybe the apple fell off the tree, kinda far from the tree, but the apple's still … the apple's still … look, I don't exactly know where I'm going with the apple thing but pl … please don't kill me."

Lusiel decided she'd lost the game. Because there was no way she could ever keep from laughing after his "apple thing". Someday she would rise above her petty entertainments. She shrugged at the terrified, trembling boy, "So what would you have me do? There's no way you can be left to tell your tale." And she listened as he described the tests conducted at this facility, the drug that worked to ruin all memories in the subjects they used it on. How many patients were tested using such a drug before the Republic decided it was too risky to field, Lusiel wondered suddenly. No matter, however. She gathered together the items needed to administer the drug, before approaching the boy once again.

By then, he was brainlessly describing his pitiful memories outloud, trying to enjoy them while he could, and Lusiel was suddenly angry, only because the memories he described in that brief moment were sweet, precious. Her mind flashed, an image illuminated for one bright moment in her own memory - a woman, her long flowing brown hair matted against her skull, her dress clinging wetly red to her body, red everywhere, it was blood, the red was blood, the heavy sculpture upheld in her hand going up and down and more blood flying everywhere, until she stopped, looked at what she'd done and screamed wildly, madly, over and over again, until there was the sound of crashing glass and the screams suddenly stopped.

"Here, take the drug and be done with it, before I change my mind," Lusiel demanded, suddenly bitter, thrusting the syringe through the bars of the cramped cage.

"All right, all right! Here goes nothing." Durmat pressed the syringe against his arm and Lusiel listened, bored, to the sound of the medicine being released from the device, a steady hiss, until it was done. Durmat groaned, pained, and then collapsed. But Lusiel remained standing there, appearing utterly bored, until the boy tiredly raise himself back to his feet again. He looked at her, dazed, asking for her identity. Lusiel just shrugged at him, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I'm your inquisitor. Tell me about Commander Rylon."

"I wish I could help you … but I don't know what that is."

Lusiel reached out to him using the force, gauging the truth of his words. Baras was much better at such a task but her own skills were not meaningless. Lying to a Sith was a singularly difficult thing to do. She should know, she'd practiced lying to countless Sith over the years, until she had finally realized the trick was to hide one's secrets amongst a smattering of truths. But this boy could hardly employ such skill against a Sith. In fact, he stood there blankly considering her, just blinking, like a droid wiped clean and ready for a new program. Nodding, she boldly declared her task done and turned away, certain she would never see him again, because why should such a thing be necessary. He called after her, "Okay, see you tomorrow then, bye!"

Vette was no help at all. "Wow, I wish there was some more of that drug. There are some memories I wish I could get rid of." Lusiel stared at her, cool and silent.

"Don't we all?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Not in my cantina!"

Too late, Vette thought, watching the Imperial pilot-turned-spy choke out his last gasps of air as Lusiel twisted the force around his neck. Not that Vette felt sorry for the schmuck now draped dead over the cantina table in Sobrik. Anyone who would act so stupidly as to steal Imperial plans in order to sell them to Balmorran rebels or, worse, the Republic, got off rather easy having his neck broken by a particularly moody Sith. The fact he did so at the expense of heedless, bored military wives stuck at Sobrik just seemed worse, somehow. And, hey, the act at least soothed some of Lusiel's angst, too. Or maybe it was the fruity drink she downed right after. At least Vette had managed to finagle some utterly expensive brandy before the force-choking commenced, she shrugged. Small blessings, that's what counted.

"You feeling any better, my lord?"

"What exactly makes you think I've been feeling poorly, Vette?"

"Uh, nothing much." Vette watched as cantina workers came along to remove the corpse from their table. Everyone else in the cantina was giving the pair of women a wide berth. "Just don't think I'm going to be given the chance to enjoy a rousing social atmosphere tonight and I was so looking forward to it."

Lusiel sat there, sipping her beverage, soddenly considering the wide eyes of the cantina patrons who dared look her way. Suddenly amused, she smirked evilly at one nasty-looking bastard who fingered his blaster for a moment as he watched her, raising her hand and wiggling her fingers in his direction. Vette laughed wildly when the fellow jumped to his feet, his eyes wide, before rushing to leave the cantina.

"I bet he doesn't return for a month!" Vette couldn't stop laughing.

"That's me, Vette. Teetotaler extraordinaire! Cantina owners beware! I will clear your establishments with a mere wave of my itty bitty fingers," Lusiel muttered quietly, before raising her hands into the air at her sides to shake her fingers back and forth. Vette nearly fell off her stool, she laughed so hard. Lusiel herself only smirked.

Vette eventually quieted and looked over at Lusiel. "So, uh. Why'd you let that kid live, my lord? Back there in that Republic jail. If you don't mind me asking, I mean."

Lusiel only shrugged. "He made me laugh."

Vette sat back, thinking of what that sort of compulsion said of her own place in Lusiel's consideration. Her Sith had a wicked sense of humor, even if she was able to bite it back so no one else could see it, and Vette appealed to that part of Lusiel prone to a laughter she could not overtly demonstrate. Too bad. A world where laughter that wasn't based on diabolical cruelty but rather forced into obscurity seemed incredibly sad to Vette. Maybe if more Sith were able to laugh more often, fewer kids would have to be killed just because their fathers were idiot spies. Vette shrugged. And maybe not.

"Come on, Vette. Time to face the master once again," Lusiel shrugged away from the table and strode towards the cantina entrance. Vette chuckled as she watched various patrons breathe sighs of relief to see her go.

Lusiel looked ahead, towards the barracks that was their destination, thinking back to the handsome Lieutenant Quinn. He really did have the most incredible eyes, she thought. She'd long been partial to men in uniform, too.

"What did you call Quinn earlier today? Stick-up-his-what?" Lusiel grinned over at Vette.

"Why? Are you thinking to yank it out of there, my lord?"

Lusiel grinned at her, entering the barracks with Vette just behind her. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the low light of the inner rooms and she noticed Quinn perched at his normal work location on the far side of building. Some other soldiers milled about round various computer relays and consoles, a few even stopped what they were doing to consider her with some small degree of awed wonder. Lusiel plastered a calm look on her face and approached the Lieutenant.

"My lord, I observed your progress at the Republic control station. I was greatly impressed. I hadn't thought your chance at success to be very high, although, at the time, I was judging you a typical Sith and I see now you're anything but typical. I will ensure any future calculations I make will take your true ability into account." Quinn noticed Vette's expression from her vantage behind the Sith. She was subtly shaking her head and he wondered if Lord Lusiel would respond angrily. Rather the opposite, however.

"Quinn, you know just what to say!"

Vette actually muttered something that sounded like, "Oh brother." Lusiel ignored her, watching Quinn as he admitted, with some degree of diffidence, "I'm not too proud to admit when I'm wrong." Lusiel's force awareness roused itself, feelings becoming apparent to the Sith. Quinn was embarrassed, he wanted to prove himself, definitely a sign of personal pride – but overlying it all was an incredible sense that a correction was required, even if it was difficult to offer, and perhaps especially because it was difficult. He was apologizing to her, not because she might punish or otherwise harm him. But, rather, because he was genuinely sorry he had misjudged her. Lusiel was … touched. Not a familiar feeling.

She felt herself flounder and it was at that moment Quinn mentioned Darth Baras was waiting to address her in the privacy of the next room. Dammit. Well, at least the room he pointed her towards was his own private quarters. How interesting. Lusiel nodded, gathering herself before turning to move into the designated room. Vette followed, not looking forward to the coming confrontation.

Vette knew Lusiel really hated Baras, that it ran deep, and this despite the fact Lusiel never openly denounced her master. Lusiel was, in fact, incredibly careful when she spoke to anyone about Baras, never mind how she spoke _to_ him. Vette wasn't sure of the particular inspiration for Lusiel's hatred of the man, only that it came during her time on Korriban and before Lusiel had retrieved her from the jail cells, there. But it had something to do with one of Lusiel's instructors, she believed. Lusiel didn't speak of the incident at all. She'd only pressed a ring into Vette's hand once, insisting the Twi-lek keep the thing out of her own sight. There were dark things in Lusiel's memories, things she never shared. And she wondered about that drug again, the one Lusiel gave the boy, earlier, rather than kill him. If given the chance, would she use the drug, give herself a completely fresh chance, or would she offer such a lasting peace to Lusiel, rather?

Vette glanced at the Sith quickly. Lusiel's face was blank once again, her earlier flushness dissipated. Vette sighed. She'd give Lusiel the drug in a heartbeat. And what exactly did that say about how she really regarded the Sith? She was hopeless.

Lusiel approached the nearby console, facing the image of her master, there, determinedly. Vette took the chance to glance around the quarters themselves. Typical, she thought. There wasn't a single item in the room out of place or even mussed. The man was a robot. Stick up his backside, indeed. She shook her head and diverted her attention to the confrontation Lusiel was enduring with Darth Baras.

"I'm sure you can see the smile on my face, apprentice. You're turning me into a true believer," Baras intoned. Vette suddenly remembered the way Baras screamed when the Republic SIS agent he was torturing refused to give him what he want. She decided there was something more satisfying in seeing Baras frustrated, than watching him when he was pleased.

Lusiel shook her head, disgusted. "Quit buttering me up. What now?" Vette hid her smile at the snarky response. Few could have gotten away with it, actually. The two Sith continued to banter back and forth, as they plotted the ultimate destruction of one Commander Rylon. Vette ignored much of it, catching only bits and pieces. "Lay waste to everyone there." Honestly, what more could possibly be said after that sort of direction? Soon enough, though, and really thank goodness, the image of Baras was gone and Lusiel waited with Vette for Quinn to reappear. It didn't take long, of course. Did the man ever _not_ work?

"My lord, I've prepared a series of schematics describing the interior of the Balmorran Arms Factory. An incursion into the facility will be a monumental feat. I'm excited by the prospect of you destroying that place."

Lusiel smiled at Quinn, "So I excite you, do I?" Quinn stumbled. She was surprised he didn't fall over, in fact. He even clutched himself as if to regain his balance. She couldn't help but smile as he stammered a response.

"Well, what I meant was … when I imagine all the ways you'll shape the galaxy … I get very excited, yes."

Lusiel felt inspired, the familiarity of the game soothing her upset after being forced to consider Baras' demands. She was gratified to have some small measure of pleasing again and grateful to Quinn for providing such comfort, even if he didn't know it. Of course, it involved a dreadful teasing of the adorable man. Remember, Lusiel, you can't laugh out loud, she privately scolded.

"Admit it. You like me, don't you, Quinn," Lusiel insisted, coyly.

"My lord, is this an appropriate time and place for such an inquiry? You're putting me in a very awkward position."

"Aren't your quarters an appropriate place?"

"I'll ... uh, grant you that. It's not the place, I suppose, but rather the time that leaves something to be desired."

Lusiel won the game, she felt it happen, like a click of a switch falling simply into place. Even more than saving herself from laughing aloud, Quinn never once said he didn't like her. She suddenly felt happier than she had in ages and she determined to wallow in the feeling as long as possible. Even Quinn's desperate motion of the discussion back to business didn't overly upset her. Lusiel remained as utterly happy as any Sith could possibly hope for, really.

Seriously, Vette pondered as she stood watching the entire absurd encounter play out in front of her, who would have ever dreamed such a damn stick in the mud as that Imperial could've enticed such a silly female expression on her Sith's face?


	7. Chapter 7

"A Sith! No one fights like a Sith! My lord, a moment of your time!"

Lusiel sighed, turning to face the agitated soldier as the muck and dust of the field swirled angrily around her. The sound of blaster fire and artillery bursts was a constant refrain and everyone was forced to yell in order to be heard. The day had been composed of one shouting match after another with countless soldiers all the way from the base camp in the Sundari Flatlands where the shuttle deposited her and Vette to this very tired and dirty stop.

She glanced up just in time to see a blazing explosive sizzle its way across the sky en route to … heh, looked like a shot from a friendly gun, as the artillery shot hit squarely what looked like a Republic crawler. The thing exploded into a blazing inferno, complete with troopers scrambling out in a mad heaping rush. Not everyone made it, she noticed.

"My lord!"

Vette's lekku were trembling, Lusiel saw, even as she gave her full attention to the shouting man in front of her. He crouched down, hunkering in a depression some explosion had made in the ground a long time earlier. She could tell, only because the dirt was no longer a rich brown but a tired grey color, instead. But the hole worked all the same to provide some sad cover. She was able to listen as he described the absolute horror the nearby Republic guns were reaping on the Empire's soldiers. Lusiel paid close attention as he pinpointed the location of the guns on her map and then shot him a dark smile.

"You're right, you know. No one in the universe fights like a Sith. I'll destroy the guns."

Vette followed her as they moved out of the cover the depression provided, approaching the long line of rebel defenses. Lusiel scanned the line, searching for the various targets the soldiers who'd directed her all day had described. She quickly discerned several immense battle droids, the correct number of artillery guns, and a host of enemy soldiers, all standing between her and the arms factory housing her targets, both Commander Rylon and now some idiot Darth Lachris had called Cheketta, a supposed Republic general who'd deserted to help defend the Balmorran resistance. Next to her, Vette unslung both her blasters, checking to ensure they were in working order, before shooting her a wicked smile. Lusiel was grateful she didn't try to shout some words of encouragement, knowing Vette was considering it.

It was going to be a long day. Better not to jinx themselves, right?

* * *

Lieutenant Malavai Quinn had a very particular routine to his thoughts, as he did to his schedule. He would methodically organize his attention, dividing his thoughts into what seemed, to him, the rooms of a house where he moved through each room only as needed. When focused on any particular task, he mentally planted himself in that single room and firmly shut the doors leading from there. Today, however, one particular door refused to remain shut and every so often, it seemed, glimmers of light from that area of his mind would demand his attention.

Surely she had been only teasing him, prodding merely to see how it is he would react. Maybe it was a test of sorts, some effort she was making to ensure he was capable of keeping focused on the matters at hand. He was fairly certain he had not angered her, at least. She had even smiled somewhat, seemingly pleased. He was half positive he'd performed well, although his bumbling responses to her teasing had not seemed overly impressive to him. Discomfiture was not a state Quinn was particularly familiar with, anyway, and he had found himself clumsily responding to her provocative overtures. She couldn't possibly be truly attracted to him. He paused. Could she?

"Sir, brief reports from patrols outside Sundari basecamp. They read, only, that Sith are arrived on the battlefield outside the Balmorran Arms Factory." Quinn shut the mental door labeled "Lord Lusiel is a woman" and returned his attention to the more imperative room called "get the job done". An exercise he would have to become familiar with where that particular Sith was concerned, he feared.

"They would want to agitate the rebels' fears, of course. That's why they're keeping the reports vague. But it does let us know she's there." Quinn examined the tracking devices he had targeting the Jedi agent and felt assured the figure was not adversely threatening Lord Lusiel's progress.

"Sir! Rebel communications reporting attacks on their defensive positions! Artillery positions are being destroyed, they're saying. One message cut off in mid-transmission indicates a Sith has destroyed a heavy battle droid." Quinn heard distinct murmurs from several of his soldiers about the size and destructive power of those battle droids outside the arms factory. He smiled when he heard one soldier mutter in an aside, "Sounds like the droid being destroyed was the least of that fool's worries." There was reason to follow the Sith, he reminded himself. The powerful were made to lead, he believed, as it only strengthened the whole.

Quinn had faithfully served a Sith lord quite directly for the several years since the Battle of Druckenwell. That service had preserved his career and, quite likely, his very life. The strength of the Sith, to him, was well-proved and beyond measuring in value. He would not fail the Sith that he served.

* * *

Lusiel's innate sense of humor was flagging as she finally faced the whining figure of Grand Marshal Cheketta, leader of Balmorra's resistance. Perhaps it was the smoking corpses of the two Jedi he'd kept with him for a final pitiful defense. Not that she was overly upset the Republic was lying about its assistance to the resistance because, really, lying and being lied to was little more than business in the world of the Sith.

No, what truly bothered Lusiel was Cheketta's physical presence, guarded by two powerful figures, far from any line, be it offensive or defensive. He stood there, begging for lives he should have been leading, standing not in front of the ones he now asked be saved but far from them and, thus, utterly incapable of doing anything to defend them.

Cheketta failed at the most basic rule of leadership. The one that had you actually _lead_ rather than _run away_. Lusiel was disgusted. An Imperial soldier approached just as Cheketta's corpse joined those of his once Jedi guardians. "My lord, we have the facility under control but pockets of fighting remain. We will work to solidify our hold."

"I'm seeking one of those pockets, actually. Where are you hardest pressed?"


	8. Chapter 8

_"Target is carving a bloody path in this direction. Unconfirmed reports indicate it's a Sith." _Quinn frowned when the first scratchy messages emerged from those devices linking him to the Jedi agent's movements. He waved aside his men's concern, however, determined to discern exactly what sort of interference the exchange indicated.

_"Consider them confirmed."_ Quinn cocked his head when he recognized Lusiel's voice. How was such a thing possible? How could he hear everything transpiring at the factory? Somehow he had missed something.

_"Commander, the enemy is Sith, repeat…"_

_"I can see that, Captain. Shut up."_ Quinn carefully ran through what amounted to a diagnostic of his tracking devices, looking for the source of the incoming transmission. He worked quickly.

_"Sith, I know why you're here. Be aware these are the finest troops I've commanded in all my decades of duty."_

_"Am I supposed to turn tail and run?"_ Quinn smiled over at the speakers, even as a couple of the men behind him whooped lightly. The fearlessness implicit in the Sith's tone was evident.

_"My men and I would be disappointed if you did. Captain Eligyn, hold the line. I'm coming with reinforcements. Rylon out."_ Then Quinn could hear nothing more than buttons pressing, footsteps moving across a metallic floor, followed by a door opening and closing again. Rylon! He was listening to Commander Rylon's movements, so that he heard Lord Lusiel only through Rylon's communication with the soldiers, there. The agent must have bugged Commander Rylon, which, in turn, gave Quinn the chance to monitor the man, as well. An unexpected development but hardly too troubling.

Quinn sat back, once again unconcerned and certain the situation was well in hand. At least he now understood Lusiel had, in fact, engaged her targets and the mission was proceeding according to plan. Whatever threat the Republic commander posed to Lord Baras would soon be eliminated. He only waited, listening to the monitors intently.

_"Please, enough of this,"_ Rylon said eventually, his voice cracking over the speakers.

_"Commander, no. Run! Save yourself!"_ The soldier's voice was thick with pain. The man was obviously wounded.

_"Just put him out of his misery, Sith,"_ Rylon insisted. Quinn heard Lusiel voice something of agreement, about the soldier suffering enough, and then her lightsaber fired. There was a swooshing sound, a gasp, and the heady thump of a body hitting the floor. Then Rylon was speaking again.

_"It's too bad they were on the wrong side. They were excellent soldiers and exceptional men."_ Quinn leaned forward, intent, as Lord Lusiel spoke in agreement with the Commander. Behind him, his men fell silent, everyone listening carefully to the exchange.

_"This is a bittersweet day. I served for the glory of the Empire. But the life of a spy is a slippery one. In essence, I had to become a Republic soldier. And I've done things against the Empire that sickened me."_ The men behind Quinn gasped loudly. Quinn pursed his lips, adamant. He spun rapidly around, pointing a finger at the nearest man.

"Lock down that signal! Ensure there's absolutely no chance it can be transmitted anywhere! Make no mistake! If that information goes anywhere, I will personally kill the one who let it loose!"

"Yes, sir!" The men began scrambling, madly rushing to their various consoles and pressing buttons galore, everyone working to ensure the devastating information was uncompromised. Quinn returned his attention to the conversation between Rylon and Lord Lusiel.

_"But for the greater good, Commander."_

_"I have lived believing – no, hoping – that was the case, friend. Today was inevitable. I knew Lord Baras would eventually have to eliminate me. But I'm proud to have been able to serve all this time._

_"I'm honored to be the one to kill you."_

_"Before I meet my end, there is one thing I must know,"_ Rylon's voice sounded choked, pained. _"My son. He was the only thing in this world that was truly mine. And in a moment of love or weakness I told him my secrets. I … I know you had to cover my tracks, but, please, tell me. Did he face his fate well?"_

Quinn held his breath for a moment, as Lusiel paused_. "His chin was held high, Commander."_

_"Then I can die with a smile. When they find my corpse, there must be evidence of a valiant fight, Sith. So I will not hold back. I will fight you as if you were my mortal enemy."_

_"I'd have it no other way."_

_"Then arm yourself. Tell Lord Baras it has been my great honor to serve him."_ Quinn heard the sounds of battle engaged - grunts and gasps, the rush and swirl of a lightsaber and the steady staccato fire from a blaster. But he had no time to waste. He verified the security of the transmission, imagined the agent's panic at her inability to transmit the data.

"She will move to flee. Work to close all avenues of escape. Bottleneck her! She must be captured immediately!" Quinn tossed the directions to his men and then reached for his personal commlink.


	9. Chapter 9

Lusiel stared at Quinn's holographic visage in terrible and angry dismay. Burning through her mind was a vivid image, of a man strapped to a table as Baras delightedly tortured him, while Vette pressed herself against her, trembling. He would punish Lusiel severely if that agent managed to get the information off-world. Behind her now, Vette shifted, staying quiet.

Lusiel found herself wondering for a wild moment if she'd ever done or said anything that would lead Baras to think Vette was important to her. She'd kept her. That was probably enough for Baras. She herself was probably too valuable, still, for a punishment that would perhaps cripple her chance to complete Baras' work against Nomen Karr. But he would easily hurt whatever people she'd made herself responsible for. That was Vette. Toovee didn't count. Mostly because she wouldn't care if his voice box was destroyed forever.

She squared herself. The Jedi agent needed to be destroyed. There was no other recourse.

"All is not lost, my lord," said Quinn. "She was heading to her ship, but I had my men move in to cut her off from the Republic landing bay. I am systematically blocking her avenues of transmission and escape, herding that Republic scum to her only hope – the spaceport at Sobrik."

"I will be there soon," Lusiel promised.

"I'm afraid there's more, my lord. My men who engaged her report that she's wielding a lightsaber. It seems this investigator is a Jedi Knight. I advise caution when facing her."

Lusiel shrugged slightly. It mattered little to her what role the agent played in the game, past her identity as "greatest threat facing me at this moment". The Jedi needed to die, her information kept secure. It was really that simple.

* * *

The Jedi's pattering nonsense about escaping to Tython, giving herself up for so-called redemption, for just a moment sparked Lusiel's irreverent wit. Not that it was ever truly muzzled. Lusiel could find the droll in just about any situation.

And there it was, in the dry, suppressed voice of this Jedi, who thought to tempt her with the supposed peace won through monotonous service to a pitifully ungrateful Republic doomed to chaotic disruptions and constant turmoil. There was no real order, no defining strength that kept the whole, there, on a set path. Just a long series of fools floundering and fighting as much against themselves as they did the Empire. In fact, the Empire provided the Republic's one saving grace, the balance to their madness, the only thing that, in opposition, kept them together. Without the Sith, the Jedi would have no reason for being. Really, it was just pitiable.

"Save your breath, Jedi. You're going to need it," she warned the fool woman. As suspected, though, the Jedi fought the inevitable. Her lightsaber whirled and sang its own discordant song. Yet Lusiel's body swayed and moved, nonetheless, her lightsaber crooning, the red glare providing a sweet note, a counterpoint to the sad whisper of her opponent's blade. It was over quickly.

"So deal the deathblow, Sith," the Jedi remained defiant in the face of death. Quite admirable, really. Until she mentioned, again, how she'd transmitted her damn recording to Nomen Karr. Lusiel's fury was bright, enough she pulled her lightsaber out, prepared to strike against the foul woman in a fit of rage.

"I hate to burst your bubble, Jedi," Quinn said, emerging from the shadows of the nearby doorway with several Imperial soldiers. He paused only briefly, as if thinking. "No, that's a lie. I'm reveling in it. I intercepted your transmission. The Jedi know nothing." And he looked to her, in that moment, utterly perfect.

Satisfaction burst through Lusiel's dwindling spirit, a surge so intense she literally couldn't stop herself from tossing the Imperial officer a smile. "Quinn, I could kiss you."

She sensed his pleasure at the compliment. But he responded steadily. "Only doing my job, my lord. I had her screened and monitored the whole time. There was never any risk at all."

The Jedi only shook her head, still stupidly calm in the face of her impending doom. "Gloat all you like, it means nothing. I remain at peace. Nomen Karr and his padawan will still destroy you."

Lusiel was quite tired of the woman. Or maybe she was just quite tired. It didn't really matter, Lusiel supposed. She pointed at the Jedi. "I will savor your destruction

"There is no death," my boot, she thought.


	10. Chapter 10

**Eventually, I'll get this ship off Balmorra, sigh.**

* * *

Baras was fuming. Lusiel knew her master well enough to appreciate his state of agitation, even masked. Perhaps she should have returned to the barracks faster. She didn't even mull over that outrageous consideration. Honestly, if she hadn't taken the time to wash and get something to eat after the god-awful day she'd just endured, she might have been unable to stop herself from telling Baras what she really thought of him. Right there in front of Quinn, no less.

Of course, looking at Quinn standing there provided her something to indulge in, too. Although he was tense as she came into the room. No wonder, what with Baras' holographic self looming over him like that. Too bad he didn't turn it off and claim some strange machine malfunction. He'd probably get away with it, too.

Quinn was addressing Baras. "It's not my place, my lord. I leave that to your apprentice to convey." At least that saved poor Quinn from Baras' continued attention.

Baras spoke, his tone, for him, censorious. "Nice of you to join us. Quinn refuses to update me, insisting the privilege is yours. I assume the Jedi investigator has been stopped."

"Quinn killed her transmission and I killed her."

"Your carelessness created a crisis. But … since you quelled it, we can move on." Lusiel felt her breaths moving slowly again. Her people were safe, she thought, refusing to glance at either Vette or Quinn, only then realizing she'd begun thinking of him as hers. Soft happiness bubbled inside of her, made her careless. In later years, she would wonder if things might have proceeded differently had she not painted a target on Quinn's back in the moments that followed. But then she'd remind herself what she might never have gained, too. Because Baras just might have refrained from giving Quinn to her, really. Like so many events looked back on in hindsight, what she conveyed to Baras during that confrontation carried as many pros as it did cons.

"And how you would asses Quinn's contribution, apprentice?" Baras queried.

"Lieutenant Quinn is an exceptional officer. I couldn't have done it without him." She looked over at Quinn, watching as he nodded at her praise with solemn dignity. Lord, she truly liked the man.

Lusiel's feelings were raw and bare, rather than obscured by her ordinary disrespect for her master. The truth was she was exhausted, practically wilting there in front of the holotransmitter. Combined with the powerful pleasure she'd enjoyed from Quinn's support against the Jedi, Lusiel simply lacked the ability to obscure her inclinations towards the officer. Baras stirred, considering. Quinn's earlier desires had been interesting enough. But knowing that Quinn's attraction was shared by his apprentice was extraordinary. Baras never hesitated when such valuable potential was made clear. His mind swirled with plans he intended to put into actiona. Very quickly, he thought, eyeing the pair.

"High praise, indeed. Quinn, I believe you have sufficiently repaid the debt owed to me. I'm putting you up for a captaincy and transmitting an executive order allowing you to station wherever you choose. You are dismissed," Baras said.

"Thank you, Lord Baras. If my actions benefit the Empire, they benefit me. I would have acted as I did regardless of our past." Quinn looked at Lusiel, his pleasure obvious. "My lord, before I depart, it's been an extreme honor to serve you. You are the epitome of everything the Empire stands for."

Lusiel smiled at the officer. "I'm going to miss your rugged good looks, Quinn."

"Maybe our paths will cross once more, my lord." After saluting the two Sith one last time, Quinn withdrew from the room.

Poor me, thought Lusiel, watching Quinn's backside as he left. Now there was nothing left to really enjoy in the moment. She sighed. She sensed Vette's amusement before the girl returned to her carefully orchestrated nonchalance behind her.

Baras clucked his tongue towards the departing Quinn. "He will have his hands full. There are powerful Imperials determined to keep him down." Lusiel wondered at the intransience of the Fates. If only she could destroy the people who truly deserved it, like whatever outrageous Imperial would try to ruin such an officer. His value to the Empire was patently obvious, after all. "Still, if Quinn can overcome them and rise to the station he deserves, there is great hope for our Imperial allies."

Lusiel eyed Baras. It occurred to her the man was plotting and that the plots he was hatching in that metal head of his involved Quinn. Baras appreciated moving people he could control into key positions. She wondered how many Imperials were as devoted to Baras as Commander Rylon had been. She wished better for Quinn than that man's end.

"If given the chance, Quinn will excel," she told Baras.

"No matter, it's not worth worrying about. Quinn's affairs are a speck compared to what we face. Your time on Balmorra is done. Return to your ship as soon as you're ready to leave. I'll contact you once you're there."

The image of Baras abruptly faded and both Lusiel and Vette breathed a sigh of relief, nearly in accord. "Well, my lord, that's all done. We're out of here, right? Hey, wanna grab another one of those fruit cocktails from the cantina before we jump planet?"

"Maybe we should just commandeer the bartender. There's plenty of room, after all."

"Ah, my lord, it's truly inspiring to see your natural talents towards domination and discipline exercised in such positive ways."


	11. Chapter 11

Datapads were scattered across Quinn's desk as he considered the current map of Imperial military assignments, when the holotransmitter chirped, indicated an incoming communication. Quinn was surprised to see the call coming from Darth Baras but he didn't hesitate to receive it.

"Quinn, good, I hoped to speak to you outside the notice of my apprentice. I require your assistance." Baras eyed the young officer carefully. So much of what Baras hoped to achieve hinged on providing just the right seeds in the minds of both Lusiel and Quinn. By the time he was done, he intended to have eradicated one possible threat while simultaneously positioning a valuable ally in a significant position within the highest levels of the Imperial military. He only needed to pull the right strings and precisely the right time.

"Of course, my lord. I am always your willing servant."

"Excellent. I need you to approach my apprentice, ask to join her crew. I must be assured of her trustworthiness. So many of my enemies strive to misdirect my apprentices contrary to my purposes, so they become a danger to me and I'm forced to destroy them." Baras prodded at the knot of interest he already sensed in Quinn. He may hesitate to spy but not if he thought his activities served, in fact, to protect Lusiel.

Not surprising in the least, Quinn defended Lusiel. "My lord, your apprentice never failed to serve you with distinct honor. I am certain your fears are baseless."

"Be that as it may, I am looking towards the future. It is not unusual for me to keep a close eye on some my most promising apprentices. I am only asking that you serve as that eye."

Quinn was well aware that any refusal he gave Lord Baras would be incredibly imprudent of him. Might as well just use the word stupid, he corrected himself. Refusing the wishes and desires of a Sith were more often than not plain suicidal, in fact. But he still recoiled at the thought of acting against Lord Lusiel, even if only in so limited a fashion. He admired her greatly, thought of the instances where she'd impressed him. She had battled her enemies with precision, glory and beauty, showing not only skill but steely determination and a refusal to fear.

"I see, my lord. She may not be willing to accept me onto her ship, however." A part of Quinn hoped she would. He ignored the part of him that thought seeing Lord Lusiel on a regular, everyday level would be desirable.

Baras waved aside such a concern. "I have no doubt she will be glad to have you, Quinn. She obviously respects your skills and abilities. She knows, too, that you can choose any assignment you desire. It will flatter her you've chosen her ship and crew."

Quinn thought back to Lusiel's coy attitude during the briefing in his quarters. She may continue such overtures if he was to serve on her ship. He felt a small thrill at the thought. But, he reminded himself, military protocols prohibited such associations. He would simply have to hold himself to strict standards in regards his response to any sort of flirtation Lord Lusiel provided him.

Baras saw Quinn's shoulders go back into a position of respectful attention. Behind his mask, Baras grinned as the first piece on the board fell into neatly into place.

* * *

Lusiel couldn't resist. Watching Quinn as he knelt at her feet was simply too enticing a sight. Especially on the heels of his promise to "serve her in whatever capacity see fit". So she thought aloud, "Whatever capacity I see fit. How exciting."

"More like nauseating," Vette rubbed her forehead, dismayed.

Lusiel eyed her balefully, however. "I wouldn't expect a child to understand," she said. Vette understood the importance of maintaining the public attitude of complete subservience to Lusiel's will. Criticism, even implied, was not something Lusiel could tolerate, else be forced to prove her strength over Vette, an exercise neither one of them would enjoy.

Vette subsided, nodding subtly at the rebuke.

"My lord, if given the chance, I know I will prove myself to you," Quinn asserted, startling Lusiel. Those words … She had spoken almost those very words only hours beforehand. To Baras.

Lusiel regarded Quinn carefully, using her force awareness to seek out some answers to her sudden concern. He was watching her, looking up from his kneeling position, and quite adamant. That was his overriding feeling, too. He was fervently determined to secure her agreement he join her creq, it was driving him madly. The strength of his emotions provided her answer. He'd been compelled to approach her.

Lusiel crossed her arms over her chest, appearing pensive. Quinn continued, describing the skills he would offer her as a member of her crew. None of which concerned Lusiel in the least. Quinn's abilities, she thought, were beyond question. As an asset, his role on her ship would prove beyond worth, she had no doubt.

No, what concerned Lusiel had far more to do with her master's determination in this regard. It was patently obvious he was seeking to place a set of eyes and ears over her. To what purpose was the real question. It could be nothing more than a safeguard. Lusiel, however, felt certain it was more than that, that Baras wanted something quite particular. She simply couldn't discern what possible gain Baras hoped to gain from it. The wisest course would be to refuse Quinn onto her crew, deny Baras his spy.

But, then, what would come of Quinn should he fail to secure a place on her ship? Baras would at least deny him the support he needed to recover from whatever blow his career had taken that landed him on Balmorra. She didn't want to imagine the worst that could be done him. Quinn would be ruined. Lusiel didn't appreciate such a thought. He was a fine officer, obviously loyal, even if his loyalty was given to a Sith who didn't deserve it. She could, perhaps, win that loyalty away from Baras. The challenge would at least prove a unique diversion in the days ahead. In the meantime, she could feed Baras whatever illusions she saw fit where her own loyalty was concerned. That, and determine what use he intended to make of Quinn. She would have to ensure Quinn emerged from Baras' machinations secure. And free of the Sith's hold, to boot.

Looking down at Quinn, she thought of what it would be like, to see him on the bridge of her ship each day. Each night, too, maybe. The idea was simply delicious. She carefully bit the inside of her lip, her decision set.

"My lord, I offer my military prowess and every ounce of my strength to your cause," Quinn declared. Lusiel noticed he didn't look at her as he said it. Her amusement was intense but she displayed no sign of it.

Lusiel provided Quinn her ready agreement. She didn't want him to suspect her understanding of his complete role on her ship. Better if he believed she was just interested in having his attractive backside on her bridge, by all means. Especially since she _was_ highly interested in his backside.

She watched him go back, briefly, towards the doorway where he'd stacked two personal bags. Vette sighed loudly, "This is sooo not going to be much fun, my lord." Lusiel smiled at her, "You know I will not agree with you in this regard, Vette. The fun I will be having with that man can not be put into words here in public." Vette groaned dramatically.

Fun, indeed, Lusiel thought. Let the game begin, you fat bastard.

* * *

**Finally done with Balmorra, guys, phew. I broke it up as much as possible but really wanted to get the planet done in under 10 chapters. Sorry that did happen. Also, forgive me for sticking so often to the game's story itself, but, hey, it's a dang good story. Credit to Bioware's writers for a fine job!**


	12. Chapter 12

Quinn located Lord Lusiel in the ship's mess, early in the morning that first day after they left Balmorra. She was hunkered down in a chair with her head resting in her hands with her arms propped up on the mess table, obviously pained. Across from her sat the Twi-lek girl, her lekku twitching, as she pushed a plate heaped with various foods across the table towards the Sith. Lusiel merely groaned. Quinn might have agreed with her sentiments, as the food didn't look particularly appetizing, a matter he would devote his attention to as soon as possible. But Quinn felt Lusiel's immediate distress was more important.

"It's because you keep missing meals, my lord. All that jumping towards the people you have to kill and swinging yer lightsaber … I'm telling you, you burn off more energy than you consume," Vette was saying as Quinn entered the room.

"Vette, please. I do eat."

"Hah, when's the last time you actually ate a full meal?"

The droid standing nearby the food producer helpfully responded to the query. Quinn wasn't sure what was more absurd. The droid's tone or its attire. Someone had draped a red apron around its neck that was emblazoned with a large pink heart and the words, "Everyone loves the cook!" The droid's cheerfulness was entirely appropriate, given the prop. But the absurdity of the situation was striking. Quinn realized after only a moment he'd actually stopped to gape at the scene for some moments.

"Master actually ate a meal composed of chunks of nerf beef in brown gravy over a plate of white rice with green tubers on the side approximately two days, three hours ago, Vette," the droid recited.

Vette waved a finger towards her Sith lord. "See, told you so! You're not eating right!"

"Vette. I've eaten several things since then. Just … not a full meal. We've been running all over the damn place on Balmorra for two days, remember? You were there! And you ate at the same times I did!"

"First, that wasn't food. It was military rations. Except when we were at Mr. Stick in the Mud's place, that food was okay, and even then it was rushed. I think you inhaled that fish stuff they served for lunch! Second, you didn't really eat it. It just sort of disappeared into your mouth. Hello! The word is rushed, remember. Finally, you just plain work harder than me. I hang back and shoot blasters. You're the one jumping right in there!"

Vette eyed Lusiel balefully, as Quinn wondered if _he_ was "Mr. Stick in the Mud". Lusiel poked her drooping head up, looking with dark-circled eyes at the Twi-lek, before glancing down at the plate of food. She groaned. "I just can't."

"Perhaps I can be of assistance, my lord." Quinn's remark startled both the women and they looked over to where he was standing, still, in the doorway.

"Can you get food down her throat," Vette demanded.

"Actually, I think if her immediate pain was relieved, she would be far better able to eat a meal."

"Well, I'm no doctor, so there's no way really to fix her up. Toovee has some healing abilities but his efforts haven't been particularly helpful, either."

Quinn looked at the droid he thought might be the "Toovee" Vette was referring to, draped still in that outrageous apron, and wondered what possible use the thing had if it could not produce an appealing meal nor provide adequate healing. It seemed to be capable of nothing more than entertainment, and even then it was more annoying than anything else. Perhaps he could adjust its voice parameters. The machine was a debacle.

"I myself have some healing skills, actually," Quinn said.

At this, Lusiel glanced up again, hopeful. "We do have a med bay just behind the bridge. Have you seen it?"

"Of course, my lord. It's stocked quite well."

"That's because no one really goes in there, except to grab some bandages every so often. I think our Kolto stores are completely full, even. I usually opt to visit a clinic on planet," Lusiel admitted.

Quinn shook his head. "That won't be necessary anymore. I assure you, I can provide any medical assistance the crew needs, my lord. Come, I'll show you."

Lusiel gladly followed the captain from the mess, moving down the hall towards the door to the medical bay. Quinn guided her to a nearby table, where he directed her to sit on the cushioned surface. He retrieved various instruments from the cabinets lining the walls, before approaching Lusiel, placing the items carefully within reach.

"You need to remove your robe, my lord. Just the top. I need to examine your lungs and heart, to ensure none of the medicine I might use will upset your system."

Lusiel's lips twitched. "Expose my chest to you, hmmm?"

"As part of a medical examination, yes, my lord."

"Ah, you're not being any fun, Quinn."

Quinn turned and reached for the appropriate scanning tool, as Lusiel peeled the upper part of her robe from her shoulders. The fabric dropped smoothly down her arms and back to pool in a bunch at her hips, leaving Lusiel completely bare from the waist up. It was her creamy breasts Quinn observed as he returned to face her again, the perfect pink buds of her nipples puckered from the sudden exposure to a cold room.

Quinn swallowed, staring, certain of exactly two things. One, that no woman, ever, had such absolutely flawless breasts as Lusiel did. They seemed as if made to fit perfectly in the palms of his hands, even, he thought wildly. And, two, no military protocol on any world or among any species could save him from making an utter ass of himself right then. He felt himself panting. Yes, like a dog.

He raised his eyes to meet her gaze, finally, and Lusiel sighed. Quinn's eyes had actually darkened, until the blue appeared so deep it reminded her suddenly of the way the space around a star appeared through the ship's forward windows. Just _almost_ blue, she thought. She had long thought his eyes gorgeous. But this? Definitely something she'd need to see again. And again. She wondered if she could just keep his eyes that color. Could a man survive constant desire? Well, Quinn was clinical. Maybe he'd agree to help her find out. Just ... not right now.

"Quinn, if I wasn't sure my head was about to explode from this pain, I would say something particularly engaging. I might even take your hand and put it where I want it to be. But, alas, I'm hurting."

Quinn shook himself, looking away in order to focus on his work, scanning the Sith's torso for breathing and heartbeat sounds. His work was methodical as he mentally berated himself. Not even a full day passed, not even one day! The thump of her heart came through the scanner clearly. As he thought, Lusiel was incredibly healthy. He noted several scars on her chest and abdomen, however. One particularly large scar looped from her right hip up and over to curl across her lower back. Quinn frowned, identifying it as an old scar caused by a lightsaber strike. He doubted she was more than ten years of age when that wounding occurred.

After several more tests and scans, he was convinced Lusiel's severe headache was the result of inadequate diet, extraordinary fatigue, and, of course, stress. He prepared a dose of adequate medicine.

"My lord, this will make you sleep, because it's imperative you receive appropriate rest. I would rather you remain here in the bay in the meantime, so that I can continue monitoring you as the medicine works." Quinn gestured for Lusiel to repair her clothes, before he administered the dosage. She pulled her robe back up and over her shoulders.

"Thank you, Captain. See that I am woken in time for dinner, or Vette will nag me endlessly over skipping another meal."

"Of course, my lord."

Quinn stood there until the Sith had fallen to sleep. Then he moved across the room to retrieve a blanket that he used to cover the sleeping woman. He watched her for a few minutes more, observing her features when she was most relaxed. Her dark hair spilled unbound across her back and the surface of the table behind her, while her hands were pulled up and clasped together just under her chin. She looked … innocent, somehow. Hardly an image to coincide with that of the lightsaber-wielding bringer of death so many Balmorran rebels had met during their last moments.

Quinn shifted, feeling the tightness his groin seemed to remain whenever Lord Lusiel was in the same room. He wondered suddenly if that would always be the case, if he would always want her as much as he did right then. Maybe the more important question was did he _want_ to always desire her so much as he did right then? As he retreated from the bay, he looked back at her sleeping there.

At least he knew the answer to _that_ question, Quinn thought, smiling to himself.

* * *

Vette woke Lusiel before dinner, bursting into the medical bay somewhat typically for the Twi-lek. Lusiel sat up, blinking at her. Vette harrumphed, "You just had to let him on the ship. Do you know what that captain of yours did?"

"My captain?"

"Yes, my lord. Because I'm not taking responsibility for him! But seriously! He took Toovee's apron! He says he doesn't know what I'm talking about but I know he did it! My lord, it took me forever to find that apron in the market place at Kaas City, remember?"

Lusiel just stared at her. Vette groaned, "You're not going to do anything about it, are you?" Lusiel shook her head. Vette threw her hands up and stormed out of the bay. Lusiel climbed from the table, readjusting her robe and chuckling to herself.

She felt refreshed, even renewed. The pounding pain in her temples had not only receded but gone entirely, with no lingering twinges or pressures to contend with. For Lusiel, the utter absence of her former distress was almost overwhelming. She had, in fact, become accustomed to the pain as a lingering constancy, even as she fought and hewn her way through challenge after challenge on Dromund Kaas and Balmorra. Feeling so much better all of a sudden was sublime.

Oh, poor Quinn. He would never get away from her after this. In fact, she may just take him everywhere with her. Always. Wouldn't that be nice? Lusiel almost danced from the bay. She dressed herself in her quarters, donning a burgundy-colored tunic and black trousers, before heading to the mess. Vette was right. Toovee's standard metal frame was uncovered by any sort of apron as he settled a plate of food in front of her. What's more, the food was delicious. A tempting dish of some sort of poultry baked into a pie shell with a flaky crust and thick yellow gravy. Lusiel ate every speck of food on her plate and then had Toovee bring her another serving. By the time she left the mess in search of her ship's new captain, Lusiel was feeling utterly content.

Quinn was working on the bridge, which Lusiel thought somewhat amusing, given the hour. Vette had retreated in sullen silence to her quarters earlier. And Quinn was still tapping and ticking at the consoles in front of him, referring every so often to a datapad he carried in his right hand. She thought him particularly fetching as she stood there, watching him. It helped that he was still in uniform. She did like the look of a man in uniform, Lusiel thought, sighing aloud.

Quinn finally noticed her, looking over to find her perched in the doorway to the bridge. He came to some sort of attention, standing abruptly to face her. Lusiel moved further into the room.

"My lord, I have settled into my quarters and fully acquainted myself with the ship. I am at your disposal." Quinn recited the words like they were a report. Lusiel found herself amused. But her standard game didn't seem applicable, here. Perhaps she should accept this new game for what it was, she thought. She would call this game "provoking Malavai Quinn into removing HIS uniform top" for now.

"I should probably inspect those quarters, captain," Lusiel replied, huskily.

"You'll find them spotless and in order, my lord," Quinn responded. She smiled. The tone of his voice indicated he liked her teasing, even if he didn't necessarily address it. He continued, "You'll also find I am fully trained in all aspects of operating this vessel. I can both navigate and pilot."

Lusiel shifted her weight, thrusting her hip out at a curved angle while placing her hands smoothly at either side of her waist. Quinn's gaze darkened. "If you're half as good at evading obstacles as you are my advances, then my ship is in good hands."

Quinn nodded. "I'm here to do a job, my lord."

Oh, this was going to be so much fun.


	13. Chapter 13

Lusiel wasn't where he'd left her when he followed her directions and visited one of the vendors in the Lower Promenade of Nar Shaddaa about restocking the ship's supply of bandages. He was feeling particularly proud of having negotiated the Arconan manning the medicinal supply stores into dropping his price to nearly half what he originally asked. But when he returned to the counter displaying various articles of sundry purpose Lusiel had been poking through, she was gone.

Quinn frowned. The Promenade was a busy space, complete with garish blinking lights, sultry Twi-lek voices promising every possible pleasure booming from countless speakers, and dangerous characters of every species and inclination everywhere. But the Sith he himself was supposed to accompany and protect was nowhere to be seen. Quinn was determined to locate Lusiel, before something bad happened to her. Or, rather, before _she_ did something bad to someone else, he thought, as he watched a pair of obviously Republic troopers walking steadily along the Promenade walkway. One of them was a Cathar, he noted.

This was not Imperial space and a Sith could find herself in serious trouble if she acted against Hutt interests, here. The Hutts insisted on neutral relations between the Republic and the Empire at Nar Shaddaa. At least, in the open. He knew, as everyone did, the two factions continued their battles in the city planet's lower levels.

Quinn was determined to find Lusiel. He ducked around the vendor booth, scanning the alcoves up and down the walkway. He was about to refer to his commlink when he suddenly heard Lusiel's voice coming from behind him.

"Quinn. I don't think the vendors are hawking any wares back there."

The Imperial officer spun around, to find Lusiel standing, once again, right in front of the booth where she'd originally perched herself. But how … "Oh, come on, Quinn. I'm Sith. We're supposed to keep you on your toes. I managed to find some items I'd like you to look at, anyway. Let's go." Lusiel's lips continued twitching as he followed after her.

Quinn said, "My lord, I successfully resupplied the medical bay with bandages. The goods should be delivered within the hour. I've already informed Vette to expect the transport."

"Of course." Lusiel came to a stop in front of a booth selling bits and pieces of armor and weapons. Quinn watched her, steadily, noticing the glimmer of the lights against her pale skin made her appear to be glistening. Lusiel spent several moments glancing through the wares the vendor was offering, before finally waving him over to her.

"Here, Quinn. I think this blaster is far improved over the one you're carrying now. It even offers the chance for additional upgrades over time. What do you think?" Lusiel glanced expectantly towards her captain.

Quinn bent over the item in question with an appraising eye, recognizing the thing as a remarkable piece. As Lusiel indicated, it could be upgraded. The price, however, was beyond what he himself could afford.

"What's wrong?" Lusiel asked.

"It's a very good blaster, my lord. But I am afraid I lack the resources needed to obtain it."

"But I don't."

"I can't ask you to …"

"You're not. I'm only ensuring my crew members have the best possible tools with which to perform when in my service."

Quinn nodded, fully supporting the Sith's logic. Lusiel gestured towards the vendor, a Gran this time, his three eyes on their protruding stalks quivering in their direction. She bartered quite happily for the next few minutes, until the sale was complete, and then Lusiel handed the blaster wrapped in a brown cloth to Quinn himself. His old blaster went into the hands of the same Gran who'd sold them the new piece, with Lusiel pocketing the pitiful credits the thing was worth.

"Here, Quinn. I saw this, too, and thought you'd like it." Lusiel blithely offered him a star-shaped crystal, a data storage device that, he saw, provided a series of Imperial history notations. Quinn was pleased, although he recognized Lusiel's attempt to obscure her wish that he like the obvious gift.

"Thank you, my lord. I'm honored."

Lusiel nodded at him. But he sensed her satisfaction. He followed her up the ramp towards the taxi leading from the Upper Promenade.

* * *

Lusiel emerged from the Promenade into the open air of Nar Shaddaa, shuddering somewhat delicately as she considered the terrible stench that permeated everything and everywhere on the city planet. Between that and the god-awful attitudes of every being she came into contact with, here, she was ready to concede Baras correct, that Nar Shaddaa was the armpit of the galaxy. And learning there was anything at all she agreed with Baras about added to her overall discontent, too. She couldn't wait to be done with this place.

Quinn was walking just to the right and behind her, a steady presence. She'd felt sorry watching his frantic effort to find her earlier. But her meeting had taken longer than she'd initially planned. That, or Quinn simply concluded his business faster than she'd anticipated. Probably the latter, now that she thought on it. She hoped the gift she gave him soothed any wondering he had about where she'd disappeared to, assumed she'd been looking for a gift she could give him. Some things would simply have to remain secret from her handsome-captain-who-spied-on-her. It was too bad, really.

Her contact with Kir Rifet, a Nautalon she'd long since tasked with various business and communication efforts she wished concealed from the wider Sith community, had proved successful enough. The datapad containing a note from her old overseer, Tremmel, was burning a hole in the pouch attached to her belt. No names, of course. His mere survival was a carefully orchestrated masquerade Lusiel was determined to maintain. But she'd discovered he had received the funds she somehow managed to secret off Balmorra, so that he could obtain upgraded cybernetic implants that replaced the hand she took from him. He'd been struggling with an inferior piece of prosthetic trash until then. The man who'd taken endless hours to train her in the rhythms of lightsaber battle, teaching her how to make the blade sing, had lost everything in one foul moment and only because of the egotistical manipulations of one bastard. Damn Baras, she scowled.

Baras' insistence she kill Tremel had enraged her, as she stood there in front of him during their first meeting. She'd almost quivered with it, trying at first to hide it and then, sensing the impossibility of keeping Baras from knowing how unhappy she was, just baring it in full.

That he thought to box her in, control her so much as that, by forcing her into such an "either or" trial – it was maddening to Lusiel. There was nothing she despaired of more than to feel she was constrained in some way, tied and bound to anyone's purpose aside from her own. To lack control was to have others abuse you utterly, Lusiel believed, and she refused to ever grant anyone, most especially a Sith, such utter control over her. She would not be tied, not ever, and not by anyone.

Only one Sith had ever truly tried and she bore the scar on her hip that resulted from that effort. Even her tender years of eight didn't save him. She'd left chunks of him lying scattered about the room he'd dragged her into, her rage had been so intense. But the experience of being held down, unable to move, or even call out had been horrifying. She would not tolerate anything like it ever again.

So she'd proved that Baras didn't control her. She'd saved Tremel, secreting him off and away from Korriban, towards some distant world she herself remained safely unaware of. The only piece of Tremel Baras ever got was that damn hand. He didn't even keep the ring, just tossed it towards her and taunted her with the longstanding rapport she'd enjoyed with the overseer. She was rather surprised he didn't laugh when she'd been forced to kill Tremel's daughter a short while later. Fool girl attacked her. Tremel, at least, expressed understanding about that particular confrontation. None of it mattered. Baras was still an ass.

Enough musing, though. Time to introduce herself to Halidrell Setsyn. And hope the slave trader wasn't overly fond of her pig of a master.


	14. Chapter 14

Halidrell Setsyn conducted her business in a fairly well established neighborhood. And why not, the Hutts encouraged the slave trade. Lusiel herself had no real concern either way. She certainly wouldn't hinder the buying and selling of any slave, only worked to ensure anyone so indebted to her as a slave was was properly cared for, as the weakest were supposed to be.

But Halidrell was occupied when Lusiel arrived, fending off some pushy thugs from some group called "The Exchange" intent on needling the woman for a cut of her business. As if Darth Baras would ever allow whatever profits he enjoyed from supporting Halidrell's trade here on Nar Shaddaa to go elsewhere. Laughable thought, that. Although better Baras never realize they were trying. He might end up asking her to destroy the entire organization. And she wanted to leave Nar Shaddaa as soon as possible.

"Take one step closer and there will be two dozen Sith surrounding you," Halidrell crooned at the thug leader. Lusiel subtly rolled her shoulders as she paused in the doorway, tossing Quinn a quick glance and accepting his nod in response. Wonderful, she thought. Let the fun commence.

The thug was laughing as she walked up behind the group. "Two dozen? That's a dead giveaway, darlin'. You got none." How perfectly amusing. Lusiel really did have to bite her lip. She watched the man's beady eyes widen as he caught sight of her.

"One is all she's going to need," Lusiel told him.

"See, not so smug are you now, captain," Halidrell taunted the thug.

"So you really do got a Sith up your sleeve. Well…we've been trained to take out Sith. Time to flex our muscles," he replied. Lusiel caught sight of Quinn's scowling countenance as he widened his stance in preparation.

"I've suffered you long enough," Lusiel addressed the fool thug. He was too stupid to be afraid.

"Kill the Sith," the leader said, turning his head to address the idiot standing behind him. Idiot, because he was still standing there.

Of course, the leader caught sight of Quinn when he turned, too. Quinn was shaking his head in disapproval and yanking his sparkling new blaster out. "Kill the Sith," indeed. The thug started to give out a shout but it was too late. Halidrell dove for cover behind the counter as Lusiel's lightsaber flared red and arched in sweet melody across the man's busy throat. His head flew … somewhere. Another one of the thugs fell down, screaming, as a blaster bolt hit him in the lower back. The still singing lightsaber soothed his incredible pain as Lusiel flowed forward and around. Her last swing merrily twanged against the final man's abdomen. He screamed out and fell over, gasping. Quinn approached close enough to put one last blaster bolt in his face.

Quinn regarded Lusiel carefully, his gaze moving up and down her form, methodical and precise, as he quickly evaluated her for any sort of injury. He smiled when he observed little more than sweat dotting her upper lip. Beautiful, he thought.

"You have a flair for dramatic entrances," Halidrell offered. "You're the apprentice Darth Baras prepped for me, right?"

Lusiel listened as Halidrell described her task on the planet, the search for Baras' agent, Dellecon, who'd stupidly taken shelter with a man Baras despised thoroughly, the somewhat youngish Lord Rathari. Apparently he'd impressed particular members of the Dark Council because Rathari had been granted enormous leeway on Nar Shaddaa. But Rathari's support of Baras' erstwhile spy-turned-potential-dead-man served to paint an equally bright, shining target on himself. Unfortunate, that, because Lusiel found his direct approach to matters somewhat appealing. That, or she just despised Baras enough to like the very different Rathari for being merely different.

Not that it mattered, Lusiel considered, as she walked out of Halidrell's shop. Regardless of Lusiel's feelings, Rathari was doomed so long as Dellecon hid behind him. He'd failed to appreciate one of Tremel's best rules. The one that said, "When a thing is used up, it must be eradicated." Rathari was trying to cling to Baras' trash, and it would only serve to ruin him.

"Quinn, tell me the best means of addressing the Hutt cartel," she insisted. Tucking his head closer to hers, Quinn proceeded to describe the political machinations of the Hutts, Lusiel listening very carefully. It wasn't the most engaging conversation. Talking about slimy Hutts just wasn't overly appealing.

But the subtle scent of what Lusiel assumed was Quinn's shaving cream mixed with the smell she associated with him alone, a rather woodsy, natural aroma, drifted in Lusiel's direction. She could almost ignore the fact they were still in Nar Shaddaa.

* * *

Lusiel ignored the smell randomly expelled by the two gargantuan Hutts lounging in the corner of the room. Apparently, Nar Shadda was, in fact, utterly permeated with the reeking gas of Hutt flatulence. The travel advisories failed to mention that little fact.

"You would be wise to bend to the great Lord Rathari's will. Sign over the specified territories before he loses his patience." Lusiel crossed her arms across her chest as the Zabrack, his bright red and black skin gleaming in the pale yellow light illuminating the scene, paced back and forth in front of the Hutts. She wondered if the territories the Hutts were being compelled to give over to Rathari's control stank as much as their current environs did. Probably, she surmised.

"It seems we have no other choice," whined one of the Hutts.

Lucky for her, Lusiel thought. The Zabrack didn't have a Quinn. _"My lord, Hutts are renowned for their ruthless acquisition of power and wealth. They vie as much with each other as they do outsiders. They'll be quick to betray their fellow Hutts in an effort to obtain even the smallest benefit or, more likely, to save themselves from threat. Don't fool yourself, either. They may look encumbered by their large weight. But they make up for it by surrounding themselves with formidable defenses. Appeal to their innate greed and ruthlessness. Oh, and their egos. They're incredibly arrogant."_

Lusiel took in a large breath. Through her mouth, of course. "I am your other choice," she interposed. Lusiel was gratified when Gilrik proceeded to introduce her to the Hutts. It helped move matters along, after all. She was even able to insult him, although calling him a worm didn't work to get insight into Rathari's location. But the Hutts seemed rather excited to see the two Sith apprentices veritably circling each other.

"Oh hoho. Another Sith suitor appears. Tell us your purpose, dark one," the Hutt chuckled at her.

"I have no quarrel with you. But Rathari must die. His destruction will relieve the Cartel of his endless intrusions," Lusiel responded.

"We have seen Rathari's strength firsthand. We know nothing of yours. Fight Gilrik. If you win, we will set aside our treaty with Rathari." The Hutts charmed her as they proceeded to lay odds down on the fight. If it wasn't for their gassiness, she'd even call the Hutts witty purveyors of recreation and entertainment worthy of her attention. But, alas …

The red-faced Zabrack came at her in a rush. Hardly a surprise, knowing that Rathari instructed his apprentices in the value of bold brashness. But she had learned to lose herself in the song of the lightsaber, until it flowed all around her, and consumed her enemies in its cool and stoic rhythm. Tremel had approached her as she lay bleeding and torn, after she'd literally torn apart her attacker with the sheer power of her will over the Force. He had insisted she fight even harder. He showed her how to make her blade sing! The Zabrack was no match for her.

"No, this is impossible," he gasped, falling down at her feet and clutching his abdomen.

"You fought well," Lusiel admonished. "We can bind your wounds."

"No, I will not accept … such a dis … disgrace. I die … by my own hand." Lusiel watched, impassive, as the Zabrack destroyed himself using his own saber. She turned away, just as Quinn's face twisted with shock and disgust. But no time, she reminded herself.

The Hutts were talking to each other about compensation for their wager. At least something good was had from the mess, Lusiel considered. She was only glad she never learned how much they wagered against the man's life.


	15. Chapter 15

Lusiel stopped so suddenly Quinn nearly bumped into her. He saved himself from such utter embarrassment only because he was, awkwardly, watching the sway of her backside so closely that her abrupt halt didn't necessarily catch him by surprise. He berated himself angrily, complete with mental castigations about the flimsiness of his personal character as an Imperial officer.

"Quinn! Look over there!" Lusiel pointed in the direction of a busy vendor stall near the entrance to the spaceport. Even as Quinn watched, several more interested patrons gathered around the stall. The sign blinking above the stall read, "All the way from Coruscant, ICE CREAM – rich variety of flavors – HURRY! It melts!"

Lusiel was already moving towards the growing line outside the stall, with Quinn trailing her in puzzled silence. He soon found himself perched on a bench aside a rather perky Rhodian, his green reptilian skin rippling as he chattered to another Rhodian on his other side. He watched Lusiel, who sat next to him, with some interest, as she devoured what appeared to be fried bread shaped into a cone shape and stuffed with some kind of soft frozen pudding called "denta bean ice cream". She'd offered him a serving of his own choice but Quinn had refused. He had little liking for sweet foods and she'd described the treat as a dessert.

"That was good," Lusiel admitted finally, as she consumed the very last bit of ice cream and cone. "I remember having some when I was very little."

"Really, my lord? When was this?"

Lusiel pondered. "I'm not sure. It would've been before I was six, though. My father brought home servings of ice cream that had been commandeered from a smuggler vessel out of Coruscant. My brother enjoyed the beebleberry ice cream but my favorite was the denta bean."

Quinn leaned back slightly. "Your father…he was an Imperial?"

"Yes, a doctor, actually. He was gone a lot of the time. He would be stationed on various ships for long months. My mother would tell us great stories about how brave he was and all the lives he saved. He was very much my hero. Perhaps every small girl thinks like that of her father, I don't know."

"Where is he now?"

A strange look passed over Lusiel's face. "He died. When I was six."

"I'm sorry, my lord. That must have been painful for you."

Lusiel shrugged. "It was a long time ago. I was glad for the treat today, though. That another Imperial officer was with me as I enjoyed it has a certain irony, don't you think?"

Quinn glanced at her, startled, and then smiled. "I'm glad I could be of assistance, my lord."

"Come, I'd better get some for Vette. Perhaps she'll shut up about that damn apron."

* * *

Vette glared at Quinn when he entered the mess, carrying several dripping packages. She didn't say anything to him, just watched him stonily, even as droplets of something creamy steadily plopped onto the floor in front of him.

Quinn shrugged. "That apron did look absurd on the droid, Vette."

"It did not! Not that you would know, anyway. Your sense of taste is limited to three colors – gray, black and white – and only one actual style – military. Beyond that, you're hopeless," Vette ticked off her points on the fingers of one blue hand.

"I have the good taste to have requested serving on this ship, with Lord Lusiel," he retorted. "Speaking of which, she asked me to give you this. Would you take it from me? I think it's leaving sticky residue on my boots." He held out the package of ice cream, carefully, ignoring Toovee's whines about the mess on the floor as the droid followed him into the mess.

Vette retrieved the ice cream and stood there, watching, as Quinn marched back out of the room. "Jerk. Don't worry, Toovee," Vette patted the droid on his mechanical shoulder. "I'll get you a new apron."

* * *

Quinn observed the time clock nearby the console where he continued working late into the evening. The ship had been quiet for several hours as Quinn continued organizing his plans and schedules for the coming days, both Lusiel and Vette having long since retired for the night. He stopped for a moment to briefly rub his forehead, tiredly, before glancing down at the floor.

His right boot was still marked with a dried droplet of melted ice cream.

Quinn sat back in his seat, contemplating his earlier conversation with Lusiel. He proceeded to run through several computer searches for any biographical information he could discover about the Sith he was serving. He wasn't overly surprised the data was fairly obscure. Few Sith were actually willing to display details about their personal lives in any sort of open forum. Some Sith went so far as to adopt new names once they took their place among the Sith, leaving behind their families of origin entirely. So the records of Lusiel's earliest years Quinn was able to locate were few but constructive and he looked over them with tremendous interest.

He learned the names of Lusiel's parents, Lucien and Karen Phyre. He knew they'd lived in Kaas City, so that must be where Lusiel was born. Both of her parents were listed as "dead" after her sixth year. She was sent to Korriban when she was eight years old. She did have a brother, named Khyriel, who was similarly tested and found to be non-force sensitive. There was no other record describing Khyriel, so that Quinn couldn't even tell if he was, today, living or dead. It was as if he simply vanished from public purview. Quinn's military mind supplied several likely possibilities.

The only other bit of information he was able to find about Lusiel was a record from a hospital in Kaas City, describing a so-called "accident" in which Lusiel was "gravely wounded" with a lightsaber at age eight. A handwritten note at the bottom of the page read, "Bruising around inner thighs, bite marks on chest, two blood types present." She was only eight years old, he thought painfully. Quinn squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head back against his chair.

The thought she was surely afraid during that episode simply offended every one of Quinn's sensibilities.

Quinn's commlink chirped and he retrieved the device mechanically.

"Quinn, I truly hope events on Nar Shaddaa are proceeding as planned. Is my apprentice close to destroying my agent, there?"

Quinn shook himself, determined to concentrate on the conversation. "I believe so, my lord. We have been working to disrupt Lord Rathari's ventures on Nar Shaddaa in order to flush him out into the open. And, thus, Dellecon."

"Good. Proving detrimental to anything Rathari hopes to achieve will prove intensely satisfactory to me, as well." Baras' pleasure was obvious. Quinn was gratified he was able to soothe the Sith Lord's fears in regards Lusiel's loyalty and effort. "What else, Quinn? Has my apprentice been busy with anything there on Nar Shaddaa? Has she ventured into the cantinas, at least," Baras actually chuckled.

Quinn startled at the query, as Baras had hoped. He was dreadfully defensive of the girl, Baras thought.

"No, my lord. She ate ice cream."

"Excuse me?"

"She appears to enjoy a dessert food common to Coruscant, called ice cream. She purchased several supplies of the stuff and asked me to store it on the ship. I am certain you aren't interested in such details, however, and I apologize."

"When did she become familiar with foods native to Coruscant?"

"She said her father brought her a supply of the stuff when she was a child."

"Her father?"

Quinn's entire system went on alert. He suddenly felt particularly threatened, watching as Baras seemed to lean forward into a near intimidating posture. Quinn said, "Yes, my lord. Just that her father brought her some ice cream when she was still a child and that her favorite flavor was denta bean."

"I see. Fascinating. As much that she would tell you such a thing, in fact. Good, good. Keep up the good work, Quinn. I'll contact you again before long." Baras' image faded.

Quinn cocked his head, considering. Then he returned to his console. Very deliberately and with incredible precision, Lieutenant Malavai Quinn destroyed any record describing Lusiel's original place and family that he'd managed to find. With tremendous pleasure, he gazed one last time at the words, "Gravely wounded … Bruising around the inner thighs". And he pressed delete.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Please note: I am so not a fan of Nar Shaddaa. Especially since the game seems intent on sending us back to the planet over and over. Sorry if that's obvious in my rambling chapters, here.**_

* * *

"My lord! What is the meaning of this? We are on the verge of striking a major blow to the Republic, here," General Kligton asserted, glaring at Lusiel. His temerity was admirable, in fact. Lusiel tended to disdain the constant boot-licking attitude of so many Imperials. One who faced her directly, bluntly was a novelty.

Although now that she thought on it, that's probably one of the reasons she appreciated Quinn's assuredness, too. She shrugged to herself. He wasn't any sort of doormat to her power, even if he did provide a ready and willing subservience. She really did like Quinn.

"I am seeking Lord Rathari. If he appears, here, none of you will have to suffer," Lusiel waved her hand in an encompassing gesture to the gathered soldiers. She sensed Quinn's approval behind her. She was grateful they so often agreed on how to approach such situations.

"He is attending to other matters," Kligton shrugged. Then he placed his hands on his hips. "You belong to Darth Baras, don't you? I was given instructions to destroy you if you were foolish enough to appear."

Belong to Darth Baras, indeed, Lusiel thought. Well, this General Kligton sure had a knack for earning her disapproval. And with only a few brief words, too. The man was talented.

She pointed a finger at him. "You would be wise to ignore those instructions."

"Oh, I think not. You are surrounded. And we far outnumber you. Full attack!" General Kligton shouted a quick order to his men, directing them against her. He was quick to disprove any notion she might have maintained he was something less than a fool.

Lusiel responded quickly, her lightsaber flaring with its terrible song of desire, a red arc of sound that earned one scream after another. The Imperials used better teamwork than the rebels and Republic troops she was accustomed to fighting. But they were still no match for her blade's refrain and, one after another, they fell before her.

Quinn pressed in close behind her, his blaster firing in regular clipped bursts. She suddenly heard him grunt, as if in pain, and her rhythm faltered. She glanced back at him, saw him stumble slightly, before he caught his stance and raised his blaster up once again, shooting dead the soldier who'd managed to land a sizzling blow to Quinn's upper thigh with a well-timed shot. Lusiel snarled, leaping to provide a stronger presence in front of Quinn, so that he could quickly yank a droid kolto probe from one of his belt pouches. The giggling whirl of the tiny droid squirting its kolto onto Quinn's leg provided a renewed tenacity to Lusiel's song and her blade completed its potent work.

Lusiel gazed, impassive, down at the now very dead General Kligton, before turning to Quinn. "Are you all right, captain?"

"Yes, my lord. A minor injury. The kolto is working well and I feel no pain."

Lusiel nodded at him. She gestured for him to follow her as she left the Imperial line to approach the nearby Republic defenses. She could hear the troopers behind the flimsy barricade discussing how to respond to the battle occurring on the Imperial side. Damn Kligton. His ineptitude had demonstrated a certain injudicious, even careless, attitude for an Imperial force. The troopers were plotting offensive motions designed to capitalize on that imprudence. Her quick response, however, showed the clear value of Sith strength and the troopers decided to behave with more caution than Kligton had.

"After that display, Wegland, I believe fighting a Sith should be our last resort. Just stay back and cover me." Lusiel stood just inside the barricade and watched as the far-smarter-than-Kligton Republic commander moved to stand in front of her. He was not a young man but not old, either. His red hair was matted with sweat and grime from the earlier fight that she'd managed to disrupt.

"Sith, I am Commander Naughlen, and I'm in charge of this defensive. I'm unarmed!"

Lusiel glanced behind him towards the line of troopers gathered there. She looked at Naughlen again, pointing. "Your men remain armed. Don't treat me like an idiot. I don't like it."

Naughlen looked behind him, shouting out an order to lower weapons. Several troopers, Lusiel noted, clenched their jaws angrily. But they all complied. She returned her attention to the rather smart fellow in front of her.

"We don't wish to fight you but neither can we relinquish this area. What're your terms, Sith?" The man seemed to almost bite his lip as he stood there, glaring. He waited.

Lusiel canted her head, thoughtful. She glanced over at Quinn, who seemed slightly confused by the turning events. The kolto was working, she realized. She gathered herself, determinedly, and returned her attention to the commander.

"You live only by my good grace. I may have need of you someday and you will repay my mercy. Do you understand me, Commander Naughlen?" Lusiel asserted. Quinn made a small hum and she sensed he was greatly pleased at her decision to utilize such a valuable resource.

"Very well, yes. If your mission does not conflict with Republic interests, then I pledge to help you. Here." He pulled out a datapad, transmitting the information to Quinn at her gesture. "This is my holofrequency. I will answer your call, you have my word. Until we meet again, Sith." Holding his hands up, he backed away.

Lusiel watched him go. Then she walked smartly from the area, moving fast to return to her ship and its med bay.

* * *

"My lord, I assure you, the wound was only minor. For lack of a better phrase, just a flesh wound. I've been upgrading Toovee's medical programming and its assistance has proved helpful, as well. I am quite able to return to my duties." Quinn stood in front of Lusiel at rigid attention. She glanced down at his leg and hummed thoughtfully.

"Perhaps I should inspect the wound for myself," Lusiel purred, raising an eyebrow at him suggestively. She thrilled when his eyes darkened again, knew he was remembering their earlier foray into the med bay together, as well.

"I do have medical scans that indicate my wound well healed, my lord. A physical examination isn't necessary."

"But a physical examination would be more thorough, wouldn't it?"

Quinn shrugged. If his eyes didn't remain so shadowed by desire, she would think he really wasn't feeling any particular concern one way or another. She shifted, enjoying the blooming ache between her legs.

"Such an inspection would not expose anything a medical scan wouldn't show just as simply, my lord."

She clucked, looking down at his leg again. "Oh, I think there are a few things a physical inspection would expose I wouldn't find in any medical scan."

He only bowed his head at her, slightly, his lips quirking.

She had just begun a smirking retort when her commlink chirped. Lusiel reached for the device, motioning to Quinn that he remain there with her, certain he would be able to assist with whatever issue the incoming communication indication. They watched together as the holographic image of Halidrell Setsyn appeared.

"My lord! My base … we're under attack! The last of my men and I are holed up in the command center. But the doors are about to give."

Lusiel didn't hesitate. "I'll be right there, Halidrell. Try to hold on."

"Doing the best I can. But … I got a bad feeling about this. Arhhhh! … The command center's been breached." Halidrell suddenly looked very sad. "Such power…"

Lusiel cursed vividly as Halidrell's image abruptly vanished. Quinn waited patiently, knowing Lusiel understood implicitly there was no way to save Halidrell. The woman was doomed. All they could hope for was that her death was easy and relatively painless.

"There will be a message. We need to retrieve it. Please gather your gear, captain." Lusiel simmered angrily. Failure. One of hers was destroyed.

Quinn didn't hesitate. "Yes, my lord."


	17. Chapter 17

The winds whipped rather viciously across the surface of the satellite tower, causing tendrils of Luciel's hair to rip loose from its regular coiffed bun and swipe across her face with stinging slaps. But she could still make out the Sith lord, Rathari, standing firmly in the center of the platform, his arms crossed over his wide chest. Lusiel satisfyingly noted the somewhat ragged, skinny figure standing nearby Rathari. Dellecon, she surmised.

"I don't detect any signs of other individuals, my lord. However, that isn't a significant surprise, as we discussed earlier. With such an open platform, aggressors could arrive without much warning and quite easily." Quinn remarked, quietly.

Lusiel nodded. Quinn had been quick to point out the likelihood of a trap as they'd considered Halidrell's corpse and the message Rathari had attached to it in her shop, earlier. With that in mind, Lusiel and Quinn had prepared themselves, accordingly.

"Be ready, gentlemen," Lusiel said, as much to Commander Naughlen and his soldiers, listening over the open commlink Quinn was carrying, as she did to Quinn himself. The Republic soldiers were sheltered nearby, prepared to leap onto the platform as soon as she gave the proper signal. Stars save them, Lusiel thought, if they failed her in the coming fight, because she'd hunt them down one by one. Lusiel squared her shoulders and stepped forward, approaching Rathari.

Rathari growled his greeting. Not very polite, Lusiel noted. "Ah, you showed. You lack your master's caution. I applaud that." He made up for it by noting the differences between Lusiel and Baras, however.

"Dellacon," Rathari turned to the slight character trembling next to him, "Baras' lackey is here. So say your piece. Before I kill this would-be assassin."

Lusiel shifted her attention to Baras' erstwhile agent turned target, shrugging slightly. Rathari was stalling, she knew it. She felt Quinn behind her, sensed him tensing. She knew he was scanning their surroundings steadily and doubted Rathari's minions would successfully escape his notice for long. Her captain was _good_ at what he did.

Dellacon began his dissembling monologue, accordingly. Lusiel feigned an appropriate level of interest. But really. Rylon had earned her admiration and died honorably. And quickly. This worm wouldn't get that such consideration from her. She was strongly considering taking each one of his limbs, one by one, before finally tossing him over the railing of this outrageous meeting place. She hated that Hallidrel was dead thanks to the fool's cowardice. The woman had proved herself and her loss was significant.

"Baras is insane and paranoid. I was a faithful servant and my cover was intact. Did he expect me to accept being murdered for reassurance? Just wait for death?" Dellacon stopped, eyeing her. Lusiel sighed. She was supposed to respond, apparently.

"You knew the risks of the job when you took it."

"And how to avoid them. Lord Rathari protects me now and all of Baras' secrets will be his."

Fool, Lusiel thought, disgusted. But at least he shut up then. Rathari's threats were far more interesting. "In a hundred years, when I am legendary among the Sith, your and Baras' death at my hands will not even be a footnote." Yes, Rathari made for a far more engaging opponent. "However, I would never lower myself to duel a mere apprentice such as you. You haven't earned the honor."

Lusiel shrugged. "I marked you a coward as soon as I saw you."

"You can not goad me into it, either, worm." And then Rathari gestured. Lusiel watched as soldiers appeared from various locations around the platform. Behind her, Quinn remained unconcerned. Good, he'd long since identified where the soldiers were hiding and was prepared. Every proof of Quinn's skill aroused her even more.

Rathari was still bragging. "These men are my elite guard, training to kill Sith. Half of them could kill you but I hate playing favorites."

Lusiel motioned to Quinn, telling Rathari, "Your men will be a little busy with my men." Quinn pressed the button on his commlink that sent the agreed-upon signal to the Republic soldiers waiting nearby. Within moments the troopers had jetted onto the platform, surrounding the group, their rifles readied in firm hands. Their Republic uniforms ruined the beauty of the motion, however. Oh, well.

Rathari snarled, wasting no time, and pushed Dellacon to the ground behind him, leaping boldly towards Lusiel, his lightsaber singing a purple hue. She met him with her feet planted, the furious tone of her own blade interposing itself between him and Lusiel. The hiss and crackle of the two lightsabers sounded loudly, even as the clamor of blaster rifles firing madly filled the air.

Lusiel and Rathari danced together across the platform, their sabers twisting in the sweetest of rhythms, meeting again and again with steady, resonating claps and pings. They flowed, like two rivers might flow around each other, each seeking dominance, each determined their own song would rise above the other and carry the day.

Quinn watched the two Sith battle each other with a sort of awed reverence. He'd rushed towards Dellacon as soon as Lusiel had engaged Rathari, placing a booted foot squarely on the man's back and holding him in place, ignoring the idiot's insistent whines to let him loose. "Shut up," he finally shouted down at the fellow. He finally swiped a blow to the back of the man's head with his blaster and listened to the very satisfying thunk of sound his skull made. Dellacon started crying. Quinn sighed.

The fight between the soldiers was over quickly, Rathari's men beaten, and Commander Naughlen approached Quinn, watching as the Imperial rolled his eyes down at the pitiful lump that was called Dellacon. Together, the two men watched as the Sith clashed, Quinn eyeing the Republic man for any sign he'd turn on Lusiel.

Lusiel was magnificent. Her hips swung in smooth concert with her firmly planted boots, allowing her to flow in synchronized motions towards and then suddenly around her opponent, keeping him constantly off-balance. The larger Rathari became quickly agitated, trying to force his greater size against her. But she continuously danced just outside his reach and her own saber struck against his armor repeatedly. She was wearing the man down, the struggle hardly seeming to upset her, she was in such a melody as she moved.

Naughlen breathed out. "Gods, she's beautiful."

Quinn scowled, feeling suddenly possessive. He shook himself. Better these Republic troopers were impressed with the glory of the Sith. It would undermine any opposition they hoped to pose to the Empire later on. Let them see what they'd face if they tried. But he still hated the drooling expression on the bastard's face. He kicked Dellacon again. Just to make sure the man stayed put, of course.

There was a final, incredible clash and Rathari cried out. The Sith paused, lightsabers held upright and silent. Then Rathari backed up and carefully lowered his weapon, before dropping down to one knee. He looked up at Lusiel, dazed.

"Never have I witnessed such raw power! The day and the planet are yours. I freely pass the scepter. Allow me to demonstrate my service to your will," he vowed, and Lusiel gestured. Rathari stepped towards Dellacon and the man whimpered piteously. Rathari's weapon slashed against Dellacon's chest. The spy cried out one last wild time and then fell in a thump to the floor.

"The threat Dellacon posed to you and your master dies with him. I hope this ingratiates me to you in some small way." Rathari kneeled in front of Lusiel once more.

Lusiel shrugged. "I'd hoped to have the pleasure of killing him myself, actually."

"A Sith of your power shouldn't have to lower herself to destroying such pitiful creatures. No, my lord. You should save your efforts for greater targets." Rathari gave Lusiel a firm, shrewd look. "It's apparent to me now you will someday rise above your master. It is you, not I, who will someday destroy Baras."

Lusiel stiffened. She reached out through the force for Quinn, felt him jolt. She glared at Rathari. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I serve my master loyally, fool. You're lucky I do not strike you down, here and now, for insulting me so badly." Quinn's upset was soothed but Rathari's eyes glinted. He deliberately refrained from looking towards Quinn.

"I see that I was mistaken. Please forgive me. By your leave, I will withdraw." Rathari held his hands outright, palms raised up. "The day is yours. _My_ lord." Lusiel gave him a feigned look of boredom, shrugging. She very purposefully turned her attention to the troopers who remained gathered around near Quinn, in fact. She never saw where Rathari disappeared to.

Commander Naughlen didn't smile at Lusiel. "All right, Sith. Now there's no one left but you and me and my men. Your objective's been met. May we go?" Quinn stepped up behind Lusiel once again, watching. Even he could sense the troopers were tense, unsure they'd survive the next few minutes. But Lusiel only nodded.

"You've served me well. You're free to go."

Quinn watched, impassive, as the troopers wasted no time in leaving. He glanced at Lusiel. "You might have destroyed them."

"Yes. But there was no need. They'll not tell anyone of what transpired here, from shame of their own participation in our support. It's really rather funny to think about, isn't it?" Lusiel grinned at Quinn. He just shook his head.


	18. Chapter 18

Lusiel stumbled when the Nautolan shouldered her, hard, before falling back and raising his hands defensively. He began gibbering a series of excuses. "Oh my! A Sith! Oh no! So sorry, my lord. Sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going! I'm so stupid, unworthy of your attention. Totally unworthy! Please, please forgive me. Please!"

Vette laughed at him. "Go on, beat it! No reason to make an even bigger ass of yourself, is there?" She watched as the alien rushed down the Promenade as fast as he could, as if certain his head was about to removed should he remain in place even a moment longer. "What a loser. Come on, my lord. The old gang will be waiting to take the Star of Kala'uun. We have to hurry!"

Lusiel nodded indulgently at the bouncing Twi-lek. But she still tossed a glance towards the rapidly departing Nautolan. Kir Rifet had smoothly extracted the datapad loaded with her communications during the brief exchange, neatly bypassing even Vette's well-experienced eye for such sleight of hand motions. Then again Vette was overly excited about their current adventure.

Not that Lusiel wasn't glad to assist her, either. Retrieving the so-called Star of Kala'uun had actually been quite amusing, what with Vette's practiced speech to the Duros called Cada Bliss, who'd apparently been the architect of Vette's foray to Korriban as well as the purveyor of stolen Twi-lek artifacts. The entire episode had provided Lusiel with priceless entertainment, her old game of fighting back laughter serving to soothe any angst she endured over being, still, on Nar Shaddaa. The fight with the thug Bliss had brought with him only served as icing on the cake.

Lusiel started walking once again towards the Slippery Slope cantina, as Vette fell in beside her, babbling about the myths surrounding the artifact they'd retrieved. Lusiel paid her little mind, most of her thoughts focused on the directions she'd included on the datapad Rifet had just obtained.

She'd insisted Rathari leave Nar Shaddaa only after staging his own death. With his defeat on top of the satellite tower, it wouldn't come as any great shock if enemies tried to take advantage of his supposed weakness, after all. Once he was believed dead, he could retreat to a hidden location and await further instructions. Lusiel provided the funds necessary for the venture. She also sent another sum  
towards Tremel. It was vital her old teacher refrain from staying too long in one location, else he'd come to unfair notice and attention.

Lusiel had no illusions, however. While Vette's little adventure proved a wonderful excuse for leaving the ship without Quinn's presence, she highly doubted he'd allowed her out and about without some kind of monitoring device. Hence, Rifet's staged accident and subsequent pickpocketing escapade.

Lusiel absently wondered where Quinn's bugs were located. The idea of Quinn manhandling her underwear provided a brief bit of humorous consideration, anyway. She somewhat doubted his fastidious nature would've allowed him so intimate an effort, however. He'd probably put the bugs in some bits of her armor. Her commlink might be taken or snatched, after all. But her boots or breastplate would be far harder to remove.

Not that Lusiel was overly bothered by the issue. She knew Quinn's efforts in this regard were as much protective as anything else. She'd noticed his ever-growing determination to provide for her safety. Which was, itself, somewhat amusing. As if a Sith was incapable of defending herself. But it was an attitude Lusiel was happy enough to indulge. She found it appealed to her natural femininity. She highly doubted she'd be particularly attracted to a man incapable or unwilling to defend her, anyway. So she accepted Quinn's monitoring and smoothly ensured Baras continued to know only as much as she herself chose.

Vette was still chattering. "Hey, when's the last time it was just you and me, huh? You need to get away from Mr. Stick in the Mud far more often, my lord. Maybe the Slippery Slope will have some of those yummy drinks you liked so much back at Balmorra."

"Oh but Quinn has his uses, Vette."

"Yea, like stealing my property when I'm not looking."

"Please, not the apron thing again."

"Whatever. I'm just saying you shouldn't be stuck with him all the time. Ever since he came on board, it's been all rules and more rules. It's enough to drive me insane." Vette sighed, overly dramatic.

"But, Vette, he also provides the ship with such wonderful décor."

"Oh no, please don't start up again with how you like looking at him. Makes my head hurt just thinking about it."

Lusiel actually laughed, just as they reached the door leading into the cantina. "All right, Vette. I won't _say_ how much I like looking at him." Vette only snorted, stopping to scan the interior of the cantina carefully. She pointed.

"There they are, my lord!"

Lusiel looked over towards where Vette was already moving. Three Twi-leks were standing off to the side against one of the walls, waiting unobtrusively. Two of the aliens were male, one rather bulky and well-muscled with pale mustard-yellow skin while the other was slighter, with green skin. The last Twi-lek was a woman with dark-red skin. All of them were watching the crowd with wide, careful eyes.

Vette almost squealed. "Taunt! Guys! It's so good to see you." She rushed ahead of Lusiel and almost threw herself into the red Twi-lek woman's embrace. The two females danced around each other excitedly. The slighter male Twi-lek eyed Lusiel carefully.

"Hey, Vette. Introduce your … uh, friend, here." He gestured towards Lusiel with a green hand. Vette nodded.

"Guys, this is my …" Vette stopped, looking at Lusiel with a questioning gaze and smiling when Lusiel nodded in agreement. "She's my friend."

"Not every Twi-lek can claim they're friends with a Sith, honey. So let's get business out of the way real quick, okay? Then we'll move on to getting to know how things have been going with you since we were split up."

The Twi-leks all gathered around to marvel over the artifact. Lusiel waved at a nearby attendant droid, determinedly seeking some of her favorite fruity drink. She became aware of a minor disagreement among the aliens, then.

"No, no, guys, you keep your credits. I know you too well. You won't even be eating. You need it for weapons, bribe money – we don't need it, honest. Do we?" Vette looked over at Lusiel, who shook her head. "See, just keep the credits!" The gathering became much more celebratory at that point. It helped that Lusiel paid for all the drinks.


	19. Chapter 19

Toovee's programming continued to confound, Quinn thought, as he hunched over the chess table in the ship's lounge. Not only had he proved unable to modify the droid's voice parameters but such tasks as chess continued to perplex the machine. Quinn was starting to wonder if the droid's former owners had created a loop back mechanic in Toovee's programming designed to muddle anyone's attempt to reconfigure the droid for more optimal use.

Well, he thought, leaning back against the bench that ran almost half the wall in the lounge, at least it cooked better meals now. He watched sadly as Toovee blindly moved one of the chess pieces to a new square. Really, how hard was it to create a chess program for the droid that actually provided a challenge in the gameplay, he pondered.

"Quinn, are you seriously sorry Toovee isn't beating you at chess?" Quinn looked up to find Lusiel standing in the doorway of the corridor leading towards her quarters. Her standard casual dress of a tunic and trousers hugged her sweetly curved frame. He eyed her breasts for a moment but snapped his gaze up when she noticed the direction he was looking and promptly thrust her chest out.

She was going to be the death of him, Quinn thought.

Lusiel shrugged and came over to take up a seat nearby Quinn on the bench. Together they watched Toovee consider its next move. Lusiel laughed lightly when Quinn sighed in disappointment over Toovee's ultimate selection.

"I take it this is one of those tasks you've been working yourself to all hours lately trying to overhaul," Lusiel admonished.

"Yes, my lord. Although the ship, at least, is responding well to my optimizations. We're currently operating at peak efficiency." Quinn insisted. He watched as Lusiel reached her hands above her head to stretch, her shoulders thrown back and her breasts thrust outwards. Her nipples beaded the front of her tunic. Quinn coughed, and Lusiel turned to look at him, her eyes lidded.

Her eyes always reminded him of chocolate, dark and luscious. Deeply tempting chocolate, the one sweet that Quinn adored. Quinn looked away from her.

"I never had any doubt of your abilities, captain. By all means, keep up the good work."

"I fully intend to, my lord."

Lusiel playfully frowned at him. "Your demeanor, however, makes me tense, captain. You could try loosening up."

Quinn straightened. "I see. Actually, no, I don't see. Is that an order or are you testing my professionalism?"

Lusiel burst out laughing. "I get such a kick out of you, Quinn!" She laughed again when he tossed her a confused look. She smiled back at him and he shook his head, exasperated.

Toovee burbled at him, then. "It's your move, captain." Quinn started, looking back at the board. Lusiel continued watching him, still amused. Quinn and the droid continued their battle for dominance on the chess board, with Quinn triumphing quite handily, of course. He was disgusted, and scowled broodingly at Toovee afterwards. The droid responded merrily, "Would you like to play again, captain?"

Quinn slumped backwards, sighing. "I will have the blasted thing play a decent game of chess eventually. It will only require an industrious approach."

"Quinn, you really do need to have some fun eventually." Lusiel chuckled.

He looked over at her, with a rather peculiar expression on his face. She regarded him steadily, trying to sense what he wanted to say. He felt … perplexed. She realized he didn't know _how_ to respond. Well, that was new. Quinn finally looked away from her, unable to express what he really thought, that since meeting her he'd definitely had more fun than he'd probably had ever before. Everything was changed, better. She had made such a tremendous difference, in so short a time. He had to try and explain it to her, somehow.

"My lord, I wanted to explain why I was languishing on Balmorra before you arrived." Quinn began, hesitantly. Lusiel regarded him, nodding steadily. "A decade ago, I served under Moff Broysc at the Battle of Druckenwell. He made a critical oversight, though, in the course of the battle that brought the fleet to the brink of destruction. So I ignored his order and turned the tide to victory."

Lusiel's eyes gleamed. She'd admired Quinn's strength of character, definitely his skills and intelligence. But this additional proof of Quinn's incredible resolve truly captivated the Sith. She found herself thinking not of an immediate or temporary liaison with the Imperial but of truly taking him for her own. The thought was slightly stunning. Lusiel suddenly wanted to _keep_ Quinn. Oh, pretty much forever. Now, there's something worth thinking about, she thought.

"Then you are to be commended," Lusiel told him, finally, still mentally reeling.

"That's not how the Moff saw it." Quinn admitted, his expression fierce. "Broysc took credit for the reversal, which is fine. But then he court-martialed me. Perhaps he would have executed me. Darth Baras, though, assigned me to Balmorra. The Moff has blocked every transfer and promotion I've been up for ever since."

Lusiel scowled. "I have no tolerance for idiots like this Moff."

"I could say more about him, my lord, but my point is made." Quinn spoke firmly, steadily. And very very seriously. Even for him. "I serve you now, I have no regrets." Lusiel blinked at him, silent and thoughtful.

Quinn cleared his throat. "I should return to my duties, my lord." Lusiel nodded. She watched him walk out of the lounge, eyeing his backside. She sighed to herself.

Toovee abruptly warbled at her. "Master, are you interested in playing a game of chess?"


	20. Chapter 20

_She couldn't move. Her limbs felt heavy, like something was pressed down over her, something strong and immense, and it left her unable to so much as twitch a finger. Every bit of her was stuck in place, rooted there, immovable. Her wrists were circled, lifted away, manipulated. Her body was being moved around, her nakedness now glaring in her appalled thought process. She wanted to cover herself but she couldn't move. She couldn't move and he was pushing at her, the big man in the robes was pushing at her, until her legs were held wide apart. _

_The heaviness pressed on her arms, her wrists, like hands holding her down. It was inky, wrong. It wrapped itself around her and it kept changing, flowing over her arms, her legs, up and around her belly, like it was rubbing her, only the pressure was hard and cruel and it hurt her. She hurt. She could feel him biting her, there, on her shoulder, her side, under her tiny nipple. She tried to move, to push him away, but she couldn't. She grew frustrated. If only she could raise one arm, she might be able to punch him in his big square nose. But there was nothing._

_She suddenly wanted her daddy. Her father would've stopped this from happening. He was a hero, there were medals the Navy had given him hanging in pretty boxes in his office, she'd seen them. But even more important than that, he loved her. He always brought her presents, swung her around in the air as if she was flying, and called her princess. But daddy couldn't save her. She'd hit him, over and over, and now daddy was gone. He was gone forever and he'd never be able to save her._

_And she, suddenly, became very angry._

Lusiel woke with a gasping cry, her gaze darting around the room. She half expected to see the walls stained with blood and gore. But there wasn't anything there. Only the dark, grey metal of the ship's surfaces and the steady hum of space and movement as the vessel moved along. All of it was warm, secure. She was strong, capable. Her lightsaber was just there, well within reach. And … she wasn't alone. The nearby presence of her companions was a balm, a blanket of comfort won through the force sense she relied upon like she would smell or sight. Her companions would fight to defend her, they'd not let anyone close enough to hold her down like that again. _He_ wouldn't.

Lusiel clenched her jaw, suddenly angry with herself. She was Sith! She feared no one. She needed no one. She climbed from the bed in a flurry, standing there. She almost stomped her foot, but that would've proved a level of discontent she refused to give into. No, she was too strong, her will immense. She had to show them all she was far too great a Sith than to ever be misused. She couldn't rely upon anyone else, ever. Her father didn't save her, she saved herself.

She surrounded herself with people she could use, that's all.

Then she heard the distant twitter of Vette's singsong voice, how it rose above the steady pulsing of the ship's motion for just a moment. She heard Vette calling, "Damn you, Quinn, you namby pamby! Who the heck programs Toovee to make bran muffins for breakfast? Bran muffins, are you kidding me?! Having a rough time in the dispenser, Quinn? Or did they give you a brain transplant when your brain rejected you?" There was a responding rumble of sound, then, and Lusiel knew Quinn was arguing with the Twi-lek, even if she couldn't discern what he said.

Lusiel laughed. Her natural propensity towards laughter asserted itself with what felt almost like a snap of a rubber band against her backside, in fact. She'd used humor for far too many years just to save herself from the rigid insanity so many Sith found themselves lost within. To her, to lose one's mind was the greatest form of weakness, until you became like that fool Sith lord on Korriban who spent all his time dissecting Tuk'ata, convinced he could discover some amazing secret within their entrails. A Sith who'd lost his mind was a hindrance to the absolute order that the Empire deserved and depended upon, a disruption of the balance that countered the chaos of the Republic, and Lusiel was absolutely determined to never be insane.

So now Lusiel's humor rushed in to recover her from the frayed remnants of her dream, to save her from falling into lonely despair.

No, she thought, sitting back on her heels in a meditative stance, breathing rhythmically. The truth was she needed people around her. She needed to laugh and she needed to sing. She needed strength and skill, verve and determination, especially in those people she kept closest to her. She needed to see these things, have these things. If they were threatened, she needed to defend them as she would defend herself. Because, in fact, they were as essential to her as any piece of her armor was. Moreso, even. Because armor could be replaced. Her people, though, were inimitable, their value beyond measure. She breathed, steadying herself.

_"I have no regrets."_ Quinn. His name slid into her drifting meditation like snow. How did she consider the Imperial. She knew he continued to watch her, that he spied. He felt obliged to Baras, of course. His tale last night described the reason for it. Lusiel believed Baras had some level of coercive abilities through the force that engendered such bonds, even, although she couldn't discern yet the precise nature of the manipulation. It was most likely a unique skill Baras had long since discovered and promptly used to his best advantage, much as the Padawan's skill in seeing an individual's true nature, perhaps.

It didn't really matter. She understood implicitly, regardless, that breaking Quinn free of Baras' hold would be incredibly difficult. Not that she wasn't winning some ground. Quinn's explanation the night before made it clear he was thinking beyond his role as Baras' tool, that he was looking at her, seeing her, even more and beyond whatever Baras had long offered. It would be gradual, she knew, but in time Baras' hold on Quinn would wither under the growing strength of her own. It had to. Quinn was too valuable, too incredible, than for Baras to have and use up. And she _wanted_ him. She admired Quinn more every day. Her impulsive thought the night before she wanted to keep him was real enough. But it was rooted as much in her admiration than any sort of desire. Although the desire was real enough, too.

No, she had to utilize whatever means she could to take the Imperial from Baras, to deny the fat bastard such an amazing servant, because the Darth plainly didn't deserve him. Because she herself wanted him. Lusiel smiled. She was going to take Quinn for her own. She would destroy Baras along the way. But when it was all over and Baras was lying dead at her feet she planned to have Quinn standing alongside her. He would be hers.

But she wasn't eating bran muffins this morning. No way.


	21. Chapter 21

Quinn's morning had proved difficult.

The twi-lek seemed intent on disrupting his routines, the order in which he preferred to function. It was as if he closed the doors to his mental rooms only to have the small, blue twit come along and burst them wide open again, to rampage madly through whatever space his mind was occupying right then, only to leave in a huff, his equilibrium utterly shattered. It normally took him several breathing exercises to calm the upset after she'd left him alone once again.

Quinn had resolutely ensconced himself on the bridge to escape Vette's overactive complaints about breakfast. It was the one space on the ship he'd expressly forbidden the twi-lek to enter. She'd horrified him once by maniacally taunting, "There are so many buttons in there. If I touched one, I'd have to touch them _all_. What would happen if I just went in there and started touching every … single … blinking … button." He knew she was mocking him, having seen Vette's workspace with all its sundry mechanics, all of which worked appropriately. But it didn't really matter. He'd long since decided he needed somewhere on the ship where she couldn't appear.

He refused to say he was hiding from the twi-lek.

So when he heard the natter of approaching footsteps coming onto the bridge he knew it was Lusiel. He hoped she wasn't going to mention anything about breakfast. He couldn't refuse Lusiel's access to the bridge, anyway. Which meant that if she was approaching to complain about the muffins at breakfast he'd have to endure her ribbing. He shuddered.

Lusiel was amused, too. But she correctly sensed the reason for Quinn's nervousness, too. For a moment, she thought about tossing him some mocking comment about bowel movements. But when she actually looked at him standing there, his blue eyes turned towards her, with the stars providing a backdrop to his form and the galaxy map highlighting his dark hair, she choked. No man should appear so beautiful as Quinn did right then. Even frowning, obviously vexed, Quinn was stunning.

"Good morning, captain." Lusiel said, finally, opting to lean a hip against the communications console at the rear of the bridge. Hopefully there were no messages in there about more escort missions for her ship to endure.

He nodded. "My lord."

"I didn't sleep well."

"I'm sorry. Were you in need of medical assistance, my lord?"

"No, I've meditated this morning. If the issue persists, I'll inform you." Lusiel assured him, watched Quinn as he gradually relaxed from his earlier worry about her possible teasing.

She almost laughed. Bran muffins, indeed. It was so adorably easy to get under Quinn's skin. She wondered if she should tell him that's why Vette persisted in needling him. Not because she found Quinn adorable. But that it was just so effortless. If he would only react with negligent disregard, Vette wouldn't have half so much fun playing with Quinn's nerves and she'd find some other target for her teasing. Lusiel pondered where she'd find someone else Vette might happily tease as much as she did Quinn. A Jawa, perhaps. Perhaps she could have a Jawa companion on board. Someday.

"Quinn, step to the right. No, a little bit more. Thank you." Lusiel smiled at him.

Quinn frowned as he complied, obviously confused. "I don't understand, my lord."

"I like the way the galaxy map emphasizes the darkness of your hair, Quinn. Makes it look blue-black. It's quite striking."

Quinn felt it happen, the heat coming into his face. He stood there, silent, while the blush stole over his features, and his eyes grew dark looking back at her. She suddenly lost her smile, becoming serious. She loved it when his eyes did that. She took her hip off the console and stepped forward, coming within reach of her captain, never breaking the gaze they were sharing. Lusiel lifted a hand and reached out, until her fingers brushed against Quinn's brow. He gaped at her, even as her fingers moved, running downwards along the side of his face, across his jaw, before dropping once again to her side.

Quinn couldn't stop his own hand from rising, his fingers reaching out. And then an insistent mechanical chirp began peeling through the bridge. Quinn blinked, while Lusiel sighed loudly and dramatically. She glared behind Quinn, towards the dinging machine, malevolent. But it didn't stop Quinn from stepping backwards and away from her.

Quinn was breathing roughly as he turned his attention to the insistent console. Lusiel crossed her arms over her chest, pouting. Damn machine, she thought. Damn you! She considered kicking the thing. But Quinn was plucking away at the console right there in front of it.

"My lord! My program worked. I believe our ship is being tracked."

Lusiel startled. "What? Where and by whom? Explain yourself, captain."

"My lord, I had been noticing some strange signatures in the energy fields nearby the ship over the past couple of days. At first I imagined them to be indicative of space clouds or even derelict debris that maintained some kind of still-working electrical systems. I created a program designed to track the fields, however, just to be certain. And it's clear, now, that the fields are, in fact, moving parallel to our own vessel. We're being followed!"

Lusiel growled softly. "I need to bring this matter to my master." She turned and left the bridge. The holoterminal blinked and whirled as they waited together. Vette came in and stood nearby the doorway into the mess, watching the proceedings interestedly.

Baras appeared, his metallic visage staring down at them. "Apprentice, I assume there's an important reason for you to upset my schedule with this interruption."

"My ship is being tracked, master."

"Explain." Quinn provided the Sith Lord a brief description of the results of his monitoring. Baras shook his head in response. "It must be Nomen Karr."

Lusiel grunted, disgustedly. "Of course it is! It's essential I confront this threat."

"Yes. Intercept this vessel tracking you and deal with whoever is on board. Send Nomen Karr the appropriate message. I will not tolerate his continued interference in my business. I look forward to hearing of your success, apprentice."

"I have no doubt of that, my lord."

Lusiel scowled as Baras' image disappeared. Stars, she despised him. But she turned, prepared to devote her attention to the immediate task at hand. She only gestured towards Quinn, trusting completely in his ability to act appropriately. He nodded back at her, bowing slightly, before returning to the bridge. Lusiel squared her shoulders, centering herself. Then she strode to her quarters to pull her armor on.


	22. Chapter 22

Captain Malavai Quinn was currently engaged in what had very quickly become perhaps his favorite pastime. It involved watching the sweet curves of Lusiel's buttocks flex and move as she cut her way through the oncoming numbers of Republic troops like they were warm butter. The incredibly splendid shrieks that met her approach, followed by the thud of bodies hitting the floor at her feet, only served to heighten Quinn's excitement. His groin kept tightening.

Lusiel suddenly hissed a pained sound, as a lucky bolt from a nearby trooper flew by her shoulder. Quinn watched the black line against her shoulder smoke and start to bleed, the flow spurting thuggishly, an obvious arterial nick but otherwise slight. He yanked out his handheld medicinal probe, preparing the appropriate level of drugs quickly. Lusiel was already leaping towards the offending trooper, who's eyes widened in horror watching her fly towards him. Quinn heard the man let out a brief yelp, "Gods!" that quickly turned into a gurgling gasp. Quinn was already rushing forward, calling out to her, "My lord!"

Lusiel stood steady, gently swinging her lightsaber against her hip, her gaze scanning the corridor in front of them, as Quinn applied the treatment to her shoulder. The soothing cold of the medicine was familiar, although since Quinn had joined her, her medical treatments had become even more effective. She hadn't added to her collection of scars even once. Quinn was too much a perfectionist for that. She looked at him now, murmuring .

"Thank you, Quinn."

"Of course, my lord."

The Sith returned to her progress through the ship's hallways, the Imperial falling in behind her. If it wasn't for Quinn's erection, their advance might have looked mundane, unconcerned – an ordinary stroll. As it was, Lusiel was absorbed in the song of the battle, compelled forward on a course of utter destruction. Quinn's presence might have disturbed her entrancement but it was so much the opposite. Having him there added to the smoothness of her passage. To her, Quinn felt like another smooth note in the song and she thrilled to feel him there. His constant excitement, which he assumed she wasn't aware of, only added to her own satisfaction.

Quinn belonged. And Lusiel sang the song, her lightsaber intent.

* * *

The slight, skinny figure of a man hurriedly pattered at the console, the steady gaze of an older man regarding him from the holoterminal in front of him. "—seems to the problem, Hirosho? Tell me why you're so concerned," the holographic image calmly intoned.

The now-named and utterly doomed fellow called Hirosho sputtered back at him. "Master Karr, you promised that we would remain undetected. But the ship we've been tracking for you is here!" Lusiel regarded the hologram, marking the features of the man she was required to destroy. She stepped further into the room.

"Calm your fear, Hirosho. It will not serve you. I will speak to your attacker when the time comes." Fool Jedi, Lusiel thought to herself. They denied their feelings, rather than recognizing the simple truth. Feelings didn't make for anything in the individual. It's what one chooses to do with his feelings that truly frees him. Because the individual is always in control, not his emotions.

Lusiel snorted loudly. "Expect the conversation to be brief, Jedi."

Hirosho spun around, his mouth falling open in shock. He sputtered when his eyes took in Lusiel's appearance, her red outer robe falling down over a dark, blackened breastplate and matching plated leg pieces. The blood splattering her in various places surely didn't soothe his increasing agitation. He glanced back at the hologram.

"You didn't say we were tracking a … a S-sith."

Poor fool, Lusiel thought, even as Nomen Karr excused his unmitigated failure in preserving these men's lives. She absently pondered what sort of alliance he had with them, taking in the figures of Hirosho and his two compatriots somewhat critically. Any friendship he felt for the men would make the ensuing lesson far more effective.

"Please remain quiet, Hirosho." The holographic Karr addressed Lusiel directly. "Sith, I presume you are Darth Baras' new apprentice. I am Jedi Knight Nomen Karr. Do you know me?"

Lusiel almost snapped out a sarcastic response, because of course she'd never met the Jedi and wouldn't it be amusing if they'd been introduced and become friends. Instead, she shrugged back at him, "You're the sworn enemy of my master."

Personally, Lusiel cared absolutely nothing about the disagreement between Baras and this Nomen Karr. Except that Karr's efforts to ruin Baras would work just as much to weaken the Empire as a whole and _that_ she couldn't tolerate. Had she her way, though, she'd gladly lock the two men up in a room together and be done with the fight once and for all. Whoever emerged, she herself would destroy. Problem solved!

Instead, she was forced to play along with their silly game of one-upmanship, as each vied for ultimate success over the other. She felt like little more than a piece on Quinn's chess board, jerked back and forth at the whims of some cruel turning of fate. She hoped she wasn't being moved around by Toovee, at least.

But she didn't fool herself. This Nomen Karr was falling just as surely to the dark as any Sith delighted in. She sensed it in him, the pure pride to prove himself better, stronger than Baras, and sensed, too, it would ultimately doom him. It was a stinking sort of hypocrisy on the part of the Jedi that she despised. Even Baras was more appealing. He was blatantly honest in his bastard-ness, at least.

Lusiel wondered abstractedly if all Jedi were so prone to failure as this one. One little nudge…

"Baras and I like to keep tabs on each other, so when I heard he had a new apprentice I investigated. These men were merely monitoring the equipment. Following orders. There's no need for bloodshed, here." Nomen Karr intoned.

Lusiel shook her head at him, unsmiling. "I feel an overwhelming need for bloodshed, actually." She gathered herself. Karr was shocked, she could tell. He held out a hand, desperate and ineffectual, crying out an absurd warning.

"Defend yourself, Hirosho! The Sith attacks!"

The small man called Hirosho snatched up a blaster, spinning to face her, but it was too late. Lusiel negligently raised her hands, compelling the two men on either side of Hirosho to rise into the air, their feet kicking as they tried futilely to drag air into their lungs. They hung there, suspended in agony, for several sorry seconds. Then Lusiel rolled her eyes, bringing her hands together in a smooth clap of sound. Above her, the two men came at each other, slamming into each other with bone-crushing force. The crunching sound of their deaths echoed through the chamber.

Hirosho stood frozen, horrified at the spectacle. He heard a swoosh of sound and glanced up. He saw the Sith, appearing almost suspended in the air above him, as she leaped towards him. A red glow grew brighter around him. The smash of the lightsaber against his head never registered. He crashed to the ground, as Lusiel smoothly rose back to her feet and returned her lightsaber to her belt.

"What an … excessive display. Those men were defenseless and unarmed." Nomen Karr appeared ill, hanging his head slightly.

Lusiel only shrugged. "Being unarmed may have been a poor choice."

"You are every bit your master's minion." Karr sighed long and low. "I shall honor Hirosho's and his men's lives by dedicating myself to thwarting you and your master."

"You will fail and they will have died for nothing."

"Your confidence is unfounded. Soon you will realize that. It calms me that you and Baras have no idea what you're up against."

Lusiel narrowed her eyes at him. "You're not certain what we know, Jedi. That's why you had to sneak after my ship. You're a fool if you think I'm not aware of that simple fact."

"I'm done with you, Sith." The Jedi offered Lusiel a cool dismissal, his image fading. Lusiel snorted. She turned smartly and proceeded to march back towards the ship's airlock.

After a time, her steps slowed and she frowned back at Quinn.

"Is something wrong, captain?"

Quinn shook himself, wondering what he'd done or said that exposed his disturbing thoughts. They paused as Quinn responded. "I am not certain why you killed the technicians. The men had not acted against us. They posed no threat."

"What they provided was an example." Lusiel explained. "Quinn, I can't be concerned that our motions will come under the scrutiny of the damn Jedi. Given the chance, Nomen Karr will send new teams against us, to watch us. After the events in that room, however, he'll hesitate. He'll remain uncertain that any other men he proposes follow us will meet similar fates. We have some breathing room now."

"A Sith strategy. I see."

Lusiel shrugged. "My mother used to discipline my brother and I similarly. If one of us acted out of turn, it was the other who was punished. I would be whipped when he did something wrong and vice versa. We learned quickly how our actions could affect the welfare of those we cared about, and we chose our course carefully as a result."

"My father just beat me. It seemed far more expedient, I suppose."

Lusiel eyed Quinn carefully. "Does your father still live?"

"No, my lord. Why?"

"Because, captain. I'd kill him for that if he wasn't already dead."

Quinn stared after her as she stalked through the airlock.


	23. Chapter 23

Lusiel observed the smoke rising above the burning wreckage solemnly. She brushed her fingers smoothly across her forehead, where some sweat had begun to gather, and then began resolutely marching forward, her boots sinking into the sand beneath her feet. Quinn shuffled along behind her, grumbling into his communicator as Vette described some issue back at the ship, which remained tucked in what was probably a much cooler docking bay at the spaceport in Mos Ila.

Lusiel hated Tatooine. She'd come to that conclusion about five seconds after stepping out of the spaceport into the heated oven of what passed for climate on the damn planet. She'd almost choked on it, it was so heady. She was a native of Dromund Kaas, a jungle world. The dryness of Tatooine offended every one of her natural sensibilities. She'd joked to Quinn, "If anyone ever asks me to purchase a residence here, I plan on gutting them with my lightsaber."

As she approached the wrecked column of Imperial transports, now, Lusiel pushed back an edge of the hood that obscured her dark head. A gesture of protectiveness on Quinn's part. He'd insisted the darkness of her hair and apparel would act as a magnet for the ultraviolet radiation from the sun and actually increase her exposure to it. He'd tossed a pale robe over her normal armor and then yanked the hood up over her head. It was ugly. The one Quinn wore worked to hide his sweet form from her consideration, as well. So the robes had been added to her growing "things to hate about Tatooine" list. She respected Quinn too much to try ripping the thing off, however.

"Don't come any closer! We'll kill anyone who poses a risk to our soldiers! Stay back!"

Quinn shouted back at the speaker, "Stand down, soldier! You are addressing my lord, a Sith! You will bear her the proper respect!"

"A Sith? Err … well, come closer but slowly. Until I verify what you say I am bound to provide for my soldiers' protection." Lusiel waved aside Quinn's snort of disgust, approaching the shouting figure, his armor pockmarked with blaster marks. As she grew closer, with her ugly robe swinging around her legs, the man gradually lowered his rifle. "I see the armor under your robe, my lord. I'm sorry. I had to act with caution."

Lusiel nodded, scanning the line of soldiers lying bleeding and shattered behind the remnants of transport vehicles. Several soldiers were busily repairing the vehicles they'd deemed salvageable, hadn't even stopped when their leader started shouting. It was imperative they get the wounded to nearby Outpost Varath as soon as possible.

"Quinn, see to the wounded. Perhaps you can stabilize them." She gestured towards the bleeding soldiers, leaning against the transports or just lying haphazardly on blankets, their armors removed to expose varied injuries. Most of them still awake gazed off morosely into the air, their morale utterly defeated. Quite a few of them weren't moving at all.

"Yes, my lord, right away." Quinn hurried towards the men.

Lusiel turned back to the convoy's leader. "Explain what happened, lieutenant. Immediately."

Lusiel listened to the man recite the day's events. The convoy was on routine patrol, transporting supplies from Mos Anek to Outpost Varath. They routinely halted at a nearby settlement along the convoy's route, mostly to recover water supplies but also to meet with the town's small community, trade with them both information and gear. Today, however, they were met with an incredible attack from heavy blaster rifle fire and even a single, large cannon as they'd approached the settlement. They'd fallen back to a more defensible location but not before taking heavy casualties.

"What's worse, my lord, is that they're only waiting for some sort of reinforcement, else they would've reached us already. We intercepted a message they sent to another base of theirs, telling them we're sitting ducks out here and asking to meet up. By morning, we'll have the whole bloody lot coming down on our heads. We'll be wiped out, unless I can get my men out of here." He waved over towards the soldiers hurriedly yanking and pulling at wires and other parts on the highly damaged transports. "Problem is, my boys aren't going to be able to get enough vehicles up and running in time. I called for an evacuation from Outpost Varath – they're closer, my lord – but it will still take them two days to get here. We're doomed."

"Who're these miscreants who've so blatantly opposed the Imperial presence here on this blasted planet?"

"Pirates, my lord. They must have taken over the settlement sometime since the last time we convoyed through here. Don't know what happened to the regular townsfolk."

"Pirates think they can get the better of the Empire's forces?"

The lieutenant pursed his lips, not saying what he was thinking. Lusiel shook her head, pleased he kept his mouth shut, knowing how close he was to saying aloud something absurd. Something like, "Well, actually, that's what they're doing."

"Well, lieutenant, we'll just have to show them the error of their ways, won't we?" She smiled at him.

The young lieutenant nodded back at her. "Of course, my lord. As you say." She knew he didn't believe her.

Lusiel turned and headed towards her captain. Quinn was just standing up again after having moved down the line and treated what injuries he could. He stood watching her approach. She motioned for his report.

"My lord, two of these men will not survive the night. The others will survive if given treatment in a more cleanly environment within the next forty-eight hours."

Lusiel nodded. "They need time, Quinn. We'll go and meet these pirates at that settlement as soon as the damn suns go down. No one does this to the Empire and lives. I want that message to be very clear."

"Of course, my lord."

* * *

Lieutenant Markhus Avery hunkered down next to the body of his newest recruit, a youngster by the name of Dolbie. He'd been green around the ears but still happily excited to be "serving the Empire". Avery had thought, given time, the boy would grow into a fine soldier, even if his eagerness needed tempering.

Now he'd never have the chance.

Avery glanced off into the darkness, looking in the direction the Sith had gone. She'd moved off towards the settlement, her officer companion following along behind her, telling him only there would be no attack coming. She'd also harangued the officer at Outpost Varath, via the communication uplink they'd been able to save, insisting he "move his ass" to get them their evacuation.

Avery tried scanning the dark horizon with his field glasses. But the rise that separated the transport's doomed location and the settlement where they'd been attacked obscured his consideration. He was left to brood, listening to his wounded soldiers moaning.

It wasn't long, actually. Not even an hour had passed when the Imperials began hearing shouts and explosions coming from the settlement. The soldiers quieted, listening, hearing the pirates shouting wildly. Booms from the cannon sounded and were abruptly halted. Blaster rifles fired out in mad staccato bursts that gradually wound down and finally disappeared all-together. Afterwards there were only intermittent wild screams, so incredibly loud on occasion that words could be discerned.

"Stop, no!"

"Gods, please!"

"Don't!"

Avery remained there, huddled with his men, all of whom sat silently through the cold of the night as the Sith demonstrated the stupidity of opposing the Empire to those who'd thought to rule the sands using brute force. One of his men, Josten, he thought it was, finally said something that fit the mood of the men during those moments.

"For the Empire!"


	24. Chapter 24

Sand people were definitely heading to the top of her list, Lusiel thought, as she listened to their screaming from nearby. She sleepily blinked at the fire that Quinn had created using a device he yanked out of that camping set she'd found last week at a bazaar hosted on the Imperial fleet. The man delighted over such presents, so she'd made it a pastime finding them. Who knew she'd end up benefiting from their use?

Quinn suddenly strode back into the camp, looking her over critically. She waited, knowing exactly what he was about to say. He relied on a very perfectly normal, to him, routine. And like clockwork: "My lord, you really do need to finish your meal. I can prepare a different packet if necessary."

Lusiel grinned delightedly at him. "I just knew you were going to say that. What a fun game!"

"Game, my lord?"

"Yes. I guess what you're going to say, or do, next and when you do it, then I win. Fun stuff."

Quinn sat down in the sand next to her, leaning close, preserving body heat as the nighttime coolness tended to be as uncomfortable as the daytime heat on Tatooine. It was a new habit of what she'd started calling his "Tatooine Routine" and she really liked it. She was carefully plotting how to continue that particular part of his routine even after they'd long since left Tatooine. For now, she happily snuggled against his side.

Quinn remarked. "But I can't possibly know what you're going to guess. How then do I know if you guess correctly or incorrectly?"

"Quinn, that's absolutely absurd. Of course you can't know what I've guessed. Only I will know if I've won or not." Lusiel laughed.

He only shook his head at her.

A sudden racket of loud rippling cries emerged from the darkness, and Quinn reached for his datapad. He checked – and probably rechecked, too – that the alarms hadn't been triggered by any encroaching Sand People. Lusiel didn't understand why he needed to check the datapad, mind you. The alarms created such a clamor of shrieks that they'd probably panic the mythical ancient beasts purported to live far beneath the sand whenever they actually activated. Some sort of dog thing had managed to set them off the first night they camped outdoors on Tatooine and the mad ringing had Lusiel jumping to her feet with a yell, her lightsaber firing red in the darkness, all in under two seconds flat. She knew, she'd checked the time on her own datapad right afterwards.

Now Lusiel didn't jump at all. She only waited, listening to the shrieks of the Sand People nearby, gauging the nearness of their sounds. They were far enough away, she finally concluded, and went back to watching Quinn. Which was a far more invigorating exercise, than it was to think on what Sand People look like. Although now that Lusiel thought on the question, she'd never really seen what a Sand Person looked like. They typically wrapped themselves up in tight such tight wrappings it was a wonder they were able to breathe. That's probably what all those tube things extending from their face coverings were for. Disgusting, she thought.

Not so, her Quinn. She liked looking at him, the way the fire highlighted his high cheekbones and slanted eyes. She wondered if he looked like his mother or father, all of a sudden. So, naturally, she had to ask.

"Quinn, do you look like your father?"

Quinn was surprised. Although, once he thought about it, once he looked at her and saw the curiosity that marked her soft, creamy features, made her eyes shine at him, he should've known not to be shocked in the least. His Lord was too bold, he'd long since come to appreciate. When she wanted something, she very typically said so. It seemed that right then she wanted to know about Quinn's family background. It was typical of her to simply pose the question even as it flitted through her mind.

Quinn nodded. "Yes, my lord. I look much as my father did. We have the same coloring, I have his eyes. Although he was far larger. I always imagined he'd hoped I'd be bulkier, or stronger, at the very least. I was always a disappointment to him."

"Really? Why?"

She really didn't know, he thought. She just sat there regarding him with the most incredible expression of bewilderment, as if there couldn't possibly be anything at all disappointing about him. He wondered briefly what that said about her own family background. He knew her brother hadn't been force sensitive. Perhaps that had something to do with her lack of concern over such questions. How would she respond to children of hers who weren't force sensitive, he thought, absently.

"My father wed my mother, who came from a long line of force users, hoping she would produce a force sensitive child for him. Instead, she died giving birth to me. And then, when the time came, and I was tested, I turned out to have no force abilities of my own. He hated me for that. He said I was the biggest disappointment of his life. He punished me for the failure quite regularly."

"I'm glad he's dead. Your mother, though. She was force sensitive?"

Quinn nodded. "She was never a very powerful Sith. She remained in a very lowly position, serving as an apprentice to another relatively minor Sith lord there on Dromund Kaas. And she did die giving birth to me. My father always said she was weak."

Lusiel shook her head. "I saw many weak acolytes at Korriban. Weakness doesn't survive that place. Trust me." She was thinking of Quinn's family line. He'd said "long line of force users". She looked at him, intent. "What was she called?"

"My mother? Her name was Jessa. My father's name was Rymar. What about your parents, my lord?"

Lusiel smiled at him. She sensed the truth, that he already knew some of her background. Quinn was far too methodical not to have looked into her history. But she indulged him, nonetheless.

"My father's name was Lucien. I'm named for him. He came from a rich and noble family but he was a younger son and not force-sensitive." Quinn nodded. "He was a great hero, won enormous awards during the years he doctored Imperials. I remember them hanging up in his office in our home."

"And your mother?"

"Karen." Lusiel's voice was hard and abrupt as she said the name. "She killed him."

Quinn was honestly surprised. He'd never discovered any hint of such a thing. But Lusiel only shrugged over at him. "I don't know why. She just seemed to go mad. They were arguing, lots of shouting. And suddenly she was hitting him with some heavy sculpture that always sat on one of the tables in the main lounge room. I heard one of the officers talking about it say he probably died the first blow."

"You saw it?"

Lusiel nodded at him.

"What were they shouting about?"

"I can't really remember, it's all muddled. Sometimes I dream about it and then I remember some of the words. He kept saying he couldn't believe what she'd done. It was something terrible, though, whatever she did. He swore he'd never let her near his children again."

Quinn was troubled by the story. But Lusiel remained completely unaffected.

"It was a long time ago, Quinn."

"I'm sure it remains troubling."

"Not really."


	25. Chapter 25

Lusiel edged along the lip of the cavernous gorge, peering down into the darkness below with a considering look. It seemed to be a perfectly symmetrical cut into the Tatooine surface, as if some monstrous god had come along and carefully scooped away a just-so proportion of sand and rock. Then plunked it down in the absolute center of nothing. The closest weathered hills and dunes could just be discerned off in the distance, anyway.

Lusiel imagined it was the symmetry of the geological form that attracted so many Sand People, because they'd been forced to slash their way through a veritable torrent of the brutes, like they were stacked in layers one after another. Lusiel brushed at a dried droplet of Sand Person blood left on her gauntleted fist, her ears still ringing from their echoing cries.

"There seems to be no way down, my lord." Quinn scrutinized the chasm facing them meticulously. If anyone could find a way, Lusiel thought, it would be her Quinn. He gestured northerly. "I think there may be what looks like an outcropping of some kind over there. We should investigate."

Quinn fell into step with her as Lusiel began picking her way along the edge. They didn't talk to each other. So their progress was punctuated by the shuffling noise their boots made on the sand, as well as grunts or growls when one of their feet would suddenly shift unevenly across the sand, leaving them to stumble slightly. Lusiel could feel sweat flitting down the center of back, under her armor, just as they reached the niche that Quinn had observed. She sighed in approval as, together, they examined the section of shelf.

The rocks, here, were aligned in what ended up a series of random ledges leading downward into the gorge. The placement was so seamless it might have been made using some sort of intelligent mechanic. But it was obvious the path into the gorge was born of natural forces. Fortunate, however. Very fortunate. Lusiel felt far better entering the darkness below knowing there was a way to get back out, anyway. She wasn't surprised when Quinn approached the first ledge and began examining it meticulously.

"It's safe enough for us to climb upon, my lord."

Lusiel grinned. "I just won, Quinn."

"Of course, my lord."

Quinn reached his hand up to her, helping Lusiel maneuver down onto the first ledge. She clutched his fingers when he tried to pull his hand back and he frowned at her. She only grinned again, and then ran her fingers back and forth over the palm of his hand. She'd sensed Quinn's discomfort at touching her, holding her hand, and she refused to tolerate the feeling. She watched him now, as he swallowed convulsively. He looked down at their clasped fingers, entranced by the cadence of her motion. He swore he could feel the heat of her skin even through both their respective gloves. Then he looked back at her, seeing the warm light of her eyes.

"I won't let you fall, my lord." Quinn promised.

"I know."

Lusiel finally let loose Quinn's fingers and gestured for him to proceed. Together, they scrambled down the path of protruding ledges. It was a rather quick descent. But Lusiel was still pleased Quinn no longer felt uncomfortable at the touch of her hand, as they randomly reached out to each other along the way, until they finally stood together on the floor of the gorge.

Lusiel breathed in, deeply, sensing the fluctuation of force energies in the place. She closed her eyes, sinking into a brief trance, gauging her environment for hints and clues of the person she was seeking. And there it was, a wisp of sensation, like a soft whisper against her senses. Lusiel reached out and grasped the feeling, examined it, widened her perception to determine what it could describe of its maker.

There was … fear, of course. It was like an anxious buzz, that fear, the fear of failure in the task at hand. It had trembled in the padawan as she moved along the path. But it was tempered, as well. The girl was determined to prove herself. To do the right thing. To serve something greater than herself, something noble and virtuous.

Lusiel opened her eyes. Quinn stood there, his gaze focused on her, watching. He remained fascinated with any hint of her force abilities, Lusiel knew. She supposed the interest stemmed from his own lacking of such skills. Regardless, she accepted his regard for what it was and motioned towards the other end of the ravine.

"My lord, I am not certain of this ritual Izeebowe Jeef described. Are you familiar with it?"

Lusiel shook her head. "I am determined, however, to succeed as the padawan herself did. It will help me determine the strength of her ability."

"I see." Quinn appeared thoughtful. "I am not sure what the padawan could have done to avoid a physical confrontation with the beast, however. No doubt some Jedi mind manipulation. But if she could quell the beast, even nascent in the force as she is, then surely we can. Then we can slaughter the beast with ease."

Lusiel stopped. "Are you concerned about facing the demon?"

He shrugged. "An unknown enemy is always a concern. But I've seen you overcome fearsome foes before. I am not afraid, my lord."

Both of them felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere, as if something moved nearby. Something large. Something … threatening. Quinn yanked his blaster free of his belt, facing ahead, just as they rounded a curve in the path and the end of the gorge was revealed. Towering above the varied beasts that surrounded it, the sand demon's red eyes, suspended above its head on tall stalks of flesh, kept swinging around the area. It was obviously agitated. Lusiel felt it sensed their own approach. However, it continued its foraging motions in the sand of the gorge floor. She wasn't sure what the beast was actually consuming but it appeared to be working hard at satisfying its hunger. It was enough for her and Quinn to come close enough to the animal that she could finally smell it.

Like everything else on Tatooine, the sand demon smelled dry and hot, papery even. It smelled of outdoors and sunlight. But above all it smelled of danger. Lusiel liked the beast as soon as she saw it and fearlessly stalked over to face it. She liked it even more when Quinn followed to stand just behind her. Her captain was brave, steady. Stars, she wanted him.

A wild roar echoed through the chamber then, as the demon rose up on its back insectoid stalks for legs. Lusiel watched its eyes flare scarlet as it took in the presence of the Sith and her captain, there, angrily bellowing a bitter threat. She felt a bludgeoning threat at her coming through the force itself, realized the beast was somehow connected to the force energies in the area. She smiled grimly, certain now of her approach.

Lusiel planted her feet squarely, staring up at the sand demon, watching it glare back at her. She raised her fist, saying firmly aloud and through the force, "Stand down, beast! I will not run, I will stand my ground." It growled, threateningly, but the sand demon became confused, uncertain. "I am not your enemy," Lusiel asserted, calmingly.

The sand demon shook its head, lowering its visage, desperately unsure. Lusiel pressed forward, sending the animal waves of assuredness, determination, lowering her gaze to meditate, and whispering, "We are one, at peace…at peace, creature." Quinn hummed a noise of approval as the sand demon lowered itself to the ground, dazed, and fell into a trance-like sleep.

"Remarkable, my lord. You enchanted it. Not surprising, really." Quinn was walking about the demon, scanning it with several devices and taking careful measurements, even as he spoke. He probably wasn't aware of what he'd actually said, Lusiel thought.

"I knew you found me enchanting," Lusiel smirked at him.

Quinn was disconcerted. "Your natural allure is obvious, my lord. I am only making an observation of its effect on the creature, however."

"Of course," Lusiel chuckled.

Quinn continued his examination, ignoring Lusiel's persistent grin. She began to walk around the beast herself, watching it more through the force than any sort of device. After several minutes the animal began twitching, although it remained asleep throughout. Then a long seam appeared in the skin along the creature's back, blood pouring out and spilling across the ground as the line lengthened and peeled backwards.

"Fascinating. It seems to be shedding its skin, my lord. And the blood is everywhere, the stench very persistent. It's making my eyes water."

Lusiel eyed Quinn, doubtful. "We should be all right, captain. This is how the padawan succeeded in the ritual without killing the beast. Please take your samples, I'm sure you're just dying to study it later and at your leisure." Lusiel reached down and took up handfuls of the animal's blood, wiping her robes with the stuff, while Quinn prepared several vials with blood and tissue bits.

She gathered some of the blood up into her fingers. "Quinn, stand still." He didn't move, remaining in place as Lusiel reached up her fingers and began running the blood across and down his shoulders. She massaged Quinn's upper arms, rubbing the blood into the fabric of his uniform.

"I believe there's enough blood on me, my lord."

"I simply have to be certain. It would be terrible if the Sand People tried to do you some harm, after all."

"Of course, my lord." Quinn watched Lusiel, his eyes going dark. "How much blood do you think will be necessary?" Lusiel just smiled at him, her fingers moving restlessly against him. Quinn's eyes smoldered back at her.

* * *

"How much of that blood did you keep from the beast, captain?" Lusiel asked, watching as yet another group of Sand People ran past them towards the entrance to their camp. They didn't even cry out with their normal ranting screams. It would certainly make their travels through Tatooine far smoother if they didn't have to stop so often to respond to another attack from the monsters, she thought.

"I could synthesize some sort of repellent, my lord. Given time, of course."

"It would be worth the effort, just to watch them run like that," Lusiel remarked, as one skittish Sand Person choked at the smell of them and stumbled back hurriedly. "It's really quite amusing, don't you think?"

"Would you like me to trip one, my lord?"

"Was that an actual joke, Quinn? If you don't watch out, you'll be laughing before long."

"Believe it or not, my lord. I'm laughing right now."

Lusiel grinned as they approached the hut in the center of the village. She looked around, interestedly, at the now deserted place, as dust swirled in the lazy afternoon winds. She closed her eyes, centering herself, before noticing the panicked approach of what amounted to a tough, ready Sand Person. Lusiel identified him as the chieften of the village - older than most, well respected, determined to prove his bravery in the face of these demon killers, else lose his position in the tribe. Brave or not, he nearly tossed a piece of fabric at her, before he turned and walked, hurriedly, towards the outer edge of the camp.

Quinn examined the piece of ripped cloth, marked with some sort of picture. "The Breev woman may be able to identify the markings, my lord. We should make our way back towards our rendezvous location."

The pair moved to leave the village. Lusiel glanced at Quinn, curious. "Is there any sort of bathing apparatus in that camping set, Quinn?" Quinn stumbled, hard, but caught himself before actually falling. He knew it would take ages before the picture of Lusiel, naked in the dying desert sun, would vanish from his fevered imaginings.

Lusiel smirked.


	26. Chapter 26

Lusiel boldly stepped into the yawning mouth of the canyon, the surrounding cliffs intermittently loosing falling pebbles and rocks that made for tinkling sounds as they tumbled down to the floor below. She felt the moisture, there, long before she saw it. Any sort of humidity on Tatooine was startling, after all.

But the sense of power –sheer, unadulterated force power – permeated even the water. Especially the water. Lusiel was struck dumb as the energy flowed through and around her, the invitation implicit. This was a place of ritual, of duty. A task that needed doing.

Lusiel approached the pool, faced it, as well as the mist that rose above it and hovered, suspended in the air. She felt Quinn behind her, his presence ever steady, willing, protective. She closed her eyes and drank him in, all his feelings and awe at the scenery, the pool as well as the walled canyon that surrounded it. "Quinn, leave me here."

Quinn hesitated. Not that she blamed him. They'd been practically inseparable throughout the two weeks they'd journeyed across Tatooine. Even their sleep pallets had been close together, in order to preserve body heat during the cold nights. But Quinn overcame his initial anxiety over the order and bowed his head, finally. "Yes, my lord."

Alone, Lusiel stripped. She followed the dictates of the force, moving to submerge herself in the pool of water, to give up to the force the remnants of her journey. All the dust that coated her, all the sand and grit that confounded Quinn's bathing system – all of it belonged to Tatooine and Lusiel gave it back. She dipped her head into the water, allowed the droplets to flow across her smooth skin and back into the pool again. Until finally she was ready and she emerged from the water, walking back to the pile of her clothes and gear with an easy gait.

Her dark hair fell in dripping lengths down to the middle of her back as she knelt there on the edge of the water and proceeded to meditate. She was patient at first, letting her thoughts swirl, moving easily and simply from one subject after another. She settled into a morass of sensation, the feelings ebbing, moving. She began to see images, easy impressions. And she let the words come as they would, the message flowing.

Baras would betray her.

Of course.

It was only a matter of time.

She had to be stronger, smarter than Baras.

She would beat him.

"Your heart is troubled. If only you let loose your fears, your doubts, you could be truly at peace."

Lusiel opened her eyes and gazed at the shining visage before her, the face so like her own, the dark hair mirroring her own. But where her own self was bold and adamant, this creature before her was soft and serene. All that they shared were common features, nothing more. Just mirrors, lacking substance.

"I fear nothing, I doubt nothing. And _that_ is what brings me peace."

Her reflection sorrowed. "Is that truly the life you wish for yourself? One where you constantly anticipate betrayal, where you trust no one?"

"Real trust is knowing I am stronger than they are. They will not ruin me. They will not control me. It is enough."

"There are already plots to destroy you."

"I have no doubt."

"If you accept me, you will gain a peace you'll never have so long as you're lost in the darkness."

"I am not lost."

"If you can not come to the light, then better you're destroyed now."

"You may try. I will overcome you."

"So be it."

She imagined, at first, that fighting herself would be a fight using the same techniques, the same rhythms and song. Yet she discovered quickly it was more a fight of differences than of similarities. Her song, that guided her in a smooth, unbroken dance across the sand, meeting her opponent with order and determined strength, was not tethered by any other light than her own. It was never weakened with a desire for difference. It was just an acceptance, of that part of herself, that she knew she'd never change, not really. It was the conflict she needed to still, not her opponent's blade.

So ultimately the light reflection stopped and gazed at her, bowing.

"You have proven yourself, dark one. We are purified, together. The way ahead becomes clear."

Lusiel envisioned a place, rolling hills of dune sands, waves of heat billowing, and a shelter, isolate, secluded. There, she thought. There she would find Yonlach, the Jedi master Baras hoped she would destroy.

"I see where I need to go."

* * *

Quinn settled the camp against a rock wall nearby the cavern's entrance, looking over periodically so that he could catch sight of his lord when she emerged from the dark and returned to him. Sharack Breev sat nearby, watching the Imperial work, her dark features alight with curiosity. He was like nothing she'd ever really seen before, as he methodically went about his tasks. The meticulous nature of his effort was truly incredible, she thought.

"The lady Sith is a pretty one. Not like Baras," Breev blurted suddenly.

Quinn looked over at her, gauging her intention in the statement. Baras might be doubtful of his loyalty. Quinn wracked his mind trying to think what he might have said or done that would have Baras concerned. Then he glanced back at the cavern entrance once again.

Quinn said, "My lord Lusiel is lovely, yes."

"Do you touch her?"

"I serve her."

"You serve all of her needs?"

Quinn frowned at her. "I serve as required, yes."

"Oh. So you will not serve me?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Darn."

Quinn felt sure he'd just neatly sidestepped a messy predicament. The roguish figure of Sharack Breev might have appealed to some. But Quinn was positive of two very important details that made any entanglement with her worth avoiding. He ticked them off, mentally. One, he honestly didn't want anyone other than the fiery woman who consumed much of his thoughts and attention since he'd met her. And, two, Lusiel would literally rip the woman apart. Better to avoid losing Baras a woman he still considered a valuable tool on Tatooine.

"You have nice eyes." Breev informed him.

"Lord Lusiel has made mention of that fact several times," he responded. Firmly.

No one had ever accused Malavai Quinn of being an idiot.


	27. Chapter 27

**Note: I was always curious about the anxiety Sharack Breev expressed when the warrior said she would head into the Dune Sea. It's almost anticlimatic that you head out to the Dune Sea and find a little hut, then. So this is my attempt to add a bit of drama to Lusiel's journey to finally meet up with Yonlach.**

* * *

The pass loomed before them, the surrounding walls reaching high into the desert sky. Sharack Breev had been insistent they avoid the Forbidden Pass, certain they were doomed if they entered the place and derisive of any chance the two of them had for returning. Lusiel had pressed forward, more because she knew there was no turning back than that she wanted to go ahead.

She stepped, suddenly, against a small rock so that her foot twisted out from beneath her and she tumbled to the ground. She made a sound of frustration as she sat back up. "Damn this world!" She'd barely moved before Quinn's hands were reaching out to gently grasp her booted foot.

"My lord, let me scan for any possible sprain or broken bone." Quinn insisted. He passed a scanning device over her ankle, still tucked in her boot. "One of the tendons is twisted. I'll need to remove the boot, first."

Lusiel leaned back on her hands as Quinn pulled her boot off. She hissed at the pain, as her now-exposed ankle began to throb sullenly. Quinn moved quickly, pressing a syringe to the flesh of her lower leg before wrapping it in a sticky gauze. He then set about erecting up a shade tent right where Lusiel was perched. Sitting himself down next to her under the shade, Quinn pulled out some dry rations he proceeded to share with Lusiel.

She began mentally counting down. 5-4-3-2-1…

"You should stay off your feet until tomorrow morning, at least, my lord."

"I won!"

Quinn sighed.

* * *

There was a heady silence in the pass. If Quinn had to guess, he would've said it felt as if everything in the area was hiding. Even the wind. The real question was what would make for such incredible suspense. Because that's what it felt like, like everything was waiting to see what would happen to them. Lusiel walked ahead of him, her hips swaying. So it was Lusiel that first realized what was scaring every nook and cranny of that pass into such terrible warning.

She'd heard stories about them, of course. It was said the Sand People used Krayt Dragons as targets in their turning of age rituals, making their youngest men venture out against the beasts before they were allowed back into the tribe. Jawas proved their bravery hunting the dragons' bones. Lusiel had never imagined laying eyes on one.

Of course, she'd never thought a Krayt Dragon would lay eyes on her, either. This one did, though. She mentally sighed, thinking to add yet another item onto her list of things to hate about Tatooine. Then she centered herself, moving into a smooth battle position from which to meet the beast when it made its charge.

"Quinn, keep your distance! Don't draw its attention! Focus on keeping me up if I take too hard a hit!"

The reptilian beast swung its head back and forth, threateningly, the immense horns and spikes along its neck and back bristling and shaking in its growing agitation. It stomped huge pawed feet, once, then twice. Lusiel tensed, as the giant beast finally leaped forward, rushing at her in a full bullish charge. She watched its two-pronged tail swinging behind the creature.

At the last possible second, Lusiel sprang upward into the air, sailing effortlessly through the air over its head, twisting as she went, so that she could swipe downwards with her lightsaber, catching the creature along the side of its scaly head. She landed with a bounding step on the animal's back and ran along its spine, slashing left and right alongside the creature's body as she chased towards its end. With a yelp she jumped again just as she reached the top of its tail, sailing forward in a mighty leap, swinging her lightsaber to smoothly remove the two-pronged end of the beast's tail.

The Krayt Dragon screamed out, the sound echoing along the pass with such awesome force stones rained down from the cliffs above. In the distance, Lusiel discerned the responding cries of some Sand People.

The animal spun around to face Lusiel once again, its bleeding tail sending a small shower of blood flying as it went. Lusiel saw Quinn, standing distantly from the Krayt Dragon as she'd directed, pulling an explosive charge from his pack, preparing it for detonation as methodically as he did everything. Then the beast was charging her again. Lusiel waited, swinging her saber patiently, watching the rampaging animal approach. Quinn shouted something, frantic. Lusiel jumped at the last second, off to the side, watching as the Krayt Dragon ran full-force into the rock wall behind her, a cruel crunching sound echoing through the pass.

Lusiel approached the dying beast, her chin tilted at a proud angle. She watched the blood drip from its smashed face as Quinn trotted over to join her. Together they stood and listened to the animal's last breaths. Then Lusiel turned to Quinn.

"Would you happen to know how to locate this beast's gizzards, captain?"

"It would seem obvious, wouldn't it?"

"Quinn, if I relied upon the obvious, we'd use that bomb you were putting together. But I figure we'd have a better chance of finding dragon pearls if you point out its gizzards to me."

* * *

**According to Wookiepedia, dragon pearls result from a natural process of the Krayt Dragon's digestive system. The Krayt Dragons would consume rocks and stones that would then tumble in their gizzards in order to better process the foods the animals consumed. Over time of tumbling all around in there, the rocks would take on the form of colorful stones that force users could use in making their lightsabers. The things were highly valuable, for their beauty and as hunting trophies.**


	28. Chapter 28

Jedi Master Yonlach had awaited her arrival, sensed her approach, watched her in his dreams. The darkness of her coming had sometimes proved overwhelming, leaving him to cry out against the promise of peril she represented. He sighed deeply, now, as he gazed upon her, marshaling his peace and calm in order to meet her.

"Master Yonlach, the Sith you've been tracking is upon us. Retreat to safety. I will take the intruder on." Yu-li determinedly faced the Sith, his hands held in a battle-ready stance.

"No, Yu-li. Control your feelings. Stand at my side. I will face this trespasser." Yonlach replied, evenly. The Jedi Knight subsided, standing next to Yonlach, but he retained his weapon in a fighting stance.

The Sith canted her head, regarding them silently, waiting. She was striking, her skin pale, her eyes darkest brown shining big in her face, her black hair thick, gathered together at the back of her head. Her presence in the force was impressive – ardent and powerful – a consuming strength that compelled, like a swell at the seaside that could simply overtake the unprepared. He felt her like she was a swelling surge set to overtake him. He thought of Jaesa, felt her presence in his spirit, and mourned.

He didn't imagine emerging from this confrontation wholly. At the least he would be forced to destroy this Sith. Or he would be destroyed by her. Either course would be painful for Jaesa.

"I know why you've come, Sith. Master Nomen Karr's apprentice threatens you somehow. You hope to flush her into the open and silence her." Yonlach confronted the Sith.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The Sith shook her head at him. Behind her, her companion shifted, and Yonlach glanced briefly at the man. He sensed no force abilities in him, although his devotion to the Sith was strong. The Sith, however, was the true threat.

"Don't insult me, child. You are an open book to me. You're here for her, I know it."

"I offer you no insult, Jedi. You only suppose at my intentions towards this padawan. I mean her no harm."

He shook his head at her. "You and I would surely define harm in different ways. She and I are linked, bonded through the force, after her journey here for guidance. I have already warned her of your manipulations."

"_I_ only seek to talk to her. Why do you fear her talking to me? Is her direction so fragile?" The Sith retorted.

"I will not fall for your manipulations either." Yonlach shrugged. "The disparity in our abilities is equal to the disparity in our ages. You can not win. Turn away now."

"I fear no one," the Sith asserted.

"It is not an attempt at intimidation. Merely a statement of fact. I am a full Jedi Master. And Yu-li has greater command of lightsaber technique than any Jedi Knight I've trained. You can not win."

"My lord," the Sith's companion stepped forward, leaning his head down in a respectful motion towards the Sith. "The threat is not lost on me. Are you certain we can take on both a Jedi Master and a Jedi Knight?"

She smiled at him, replied, "The Jedi have no idea how potent you are, Quinn."

Yonlach reacted boldly. "I sense you bluff. But your compatriot's question is moot, as you will be facing us on your own." He gestured, pushing the force against the man in a harsh blow, so that he staggered and collapsed, gasping.

The Sith glared at Yonlach, openly aggressive, her anger thrilling into a brilliant inferno of near perfect rage. Yonlach sensed her cry through the force, the utter fury at the threat posed the man. He almost stumbled back at the strength of her feelings, her care of him profound. He glanced at the unconscious figure with new awareness.

A brief glimpse broke through Yonlach's awareness, a vision swept him. He saw a girl, powerful, beautiful, wielding dual lightsabers in a glorious display of synchronized motions. He watched her dance through a song of power and strength, thrilling to the force moving within her. Her eyes gazed back at him and they were the Sith's eyes, deeply brown, set in a feminine face, her high cheekbones reminiscent of her father. She looked at him, so brief a moment, and she whispered to him, "You don't belong here, old man."

Yonlach sighed, aware once more of the Sith, watching as she pulled her lightsaber free, faced him squarely. He saw the red flare of her blade, heard it begin to sing. He didn't look away. He faced his death.

* * *

Quinn opened his eyes to blinding light, felt like a hammer had taken up some kind of permanent residence in his head. He groaned, reaching up to rub his forehead, and found himself touching Lusiel's hand, there. She had pushed the hair at his temple back and was running her finger along his upper brow, murmuring indistinctly.

He looked, saw the dead body of the Jedi Master, the Knight next to him unconscious. He groaned again. "My lord, I failed you."

"I succeeded. And we are both well. There was no failure." Lusiel shrugged.

Quinn still hurt, his head throbbed sullenly with pain. He proceeded to prepare a medical treatment. "Yes, I'm grateful my assistance proved unnecessary. I would not have forgiven myself otherwise. Are we done, here?" Quinn carefully inspected Lusiel for any sign of injury, nonetheless. Then he administered an antidote for his headache.

"I know the padawan's name now. Hopefully Darth Baras is satisfied and we can get off this damn rock."


	29. Chapter 29

Vette returned to the ship, rushing up the ramp with her packages in hand. She sang out for Toovee as she entered, heard the clank of his metallic feet against the floor as he responded. She tossed sundry packages onto the lounge seats with a negligent wave, pulling free the purple chef's hat she'd managed to scrounge from a smuggler loitering in the cantina near the market of Mos Ila. With a flourish, she plunked the article on top of Toovee's head.

"Make sure you wear this whenever you prepare meals, Toovee." Vette instructed sternly. "And don't let Quinn take it away from you!"

"Master has informed me I am to obey any direction provided me by Captain Quinn, Vette."

Vette harrumphed. "I don't know what she sees in him."

"Speaking of Captain Quinn, there's an incoming transmission on the holoterminal. An Imperial officer is requesting to speak to him." Toovee reported, its voice mechanically affable.

"Really? Did you tell him Quinn isn't on board?"

"Yes, Vette. But he remains quite insistent that he speak to the captain immediately."

Vette was curious. She'd responded to several incoming calls from Darth Baras, although she never actually spoke to the man, just forwarded his transmissions to Lusiel. It wouldn't be out of hand for her to respond to this new transmission, would it? She might dig up some dirt on Mr. Fancy Pants, and wouldn't that be fun, Vette thought.

The officer in question was human, of course. A very young lieutenant. Vette bet to herself this was his first assignment as an Imperial officer. He pinched his narrow face even further when he saw Vette's image on the holo. Fantastic, she thought. The Empire's xenophobic hatred of anything non-human or Sith really was grating sometimes.

"I am seeking the person of Malavai Quinn. Is he there? That droid wasn't particularly helpful. Is there some issue with its voice parameters?"

Vette stared back at the officer. "Quinn's been working on Toovee but I think the droid's getting the better of him. It's actually quite impressive. Not much gets past Quinn."

"So he is there? Why isn't he responding to my call?"

Vette bristled. "Didn't Toovee tell you he isn't onboard at the moment?"

"Well, where is he?"

"As if I would tell you, even if I knew. He's helping my lord Lusiel with her Sithy business, anyway. I don't ask questions about it. Bad for the digestion. He did leave me a list of things I was supposed to do while he was gone, though. I haven't gotten around to most of it."

"I insist on speaking to Malavai Quinn immediately!"

Vette rolled her eyes this time. "I just told you! Captain Quinn is not currently on board the ship. There. I even used clear and precise words so you'd understand me better this time!"

"Captain?! What do you mean captain? I'd heard the outrageous report he'd been reassigned. But Malavai Quinn isn't allowed to do any such thing. He's especially not allowed promotion to captain."

Vette almost laughed at the agitated lieutenant. Even through the holographic transmission she could see him turning red.

"Look, don't ask me. I've been a Sith slave for months now. I do what they tell me to. So if you want to know how and why he's Captain Quinn now and currently flying all over the place in his newly assigned ship, you'll have to take it up with one of them. Good luck with that."

"Moff Broysc won't stand for this!"

"Hey, guy! Don't know who that is! Ask Moff Broysc to contact Darth Baras. They may make fantastic pals. Who knows?"

"We'll see about this, mark my words."

"Yep, marked! Have a nice day!"

Vette watched the transmission fade. Then she turned to Toovee, gave him a bewildered look as she shook her head.

"I don't get it, Toovee. Is there some kind of requirement for admittance to the Imperial military that goes something like, 'don't apply unless you're a jerk'?"


	30. Chapter 30

Quinn couldn't sleep. He sat in the bridge area of the ship watching the stars drift by through the windows, idly tapping his finger against the console, lost in thought.

He'd locked in the navigation towards the Imperial Fleet already. Lusiel was intent on seeing that the dragon pearls she'd obtained were marketed appropriately. They'd discovered three pearls in the guts of the Krayt Dragon Lusiel had killed. The red pearl Lusiel intended to keep, to have it crafted into her own lightsaber. She said it would increase the weapon's potency. Quinn felt some immense satisfaction at the thought of Lusiel being even more deadly than she was already.

Which had brought Quinn around to thinking of the Sith he served with so much sheer enjoyment. Watching her was like watching a symphony, the most incredible of masterpieces. Lusiel was very quickly becoming, in Quinn's mind, the epitome of Sith power and rule. He was losing sight of anything past service to her, in fact.

Baras had sensed his growing dissatisfaction with his role as a judge and arbiter of Lusiel's loyalty to Baras. It didn't help that Quinn had started leaving out very much of the insights Lusiel really did provide him. He'd held back mention of Lusiel's family to Darth Baras during their earlier conversation, for one.

Rather, he'd embellished every small instance during their time on Tatooine that described her faithfulness to Baras. She'd been overly respectful of the Breev woman, suspecting his esteem of her, for one. She'd not backed down and resolutely faced the wilds of the desert planet, rather than give up, all to complete the task Baras had set her upon. She'd told the Jedi Yonlach she served Baras. Quinn played it all up, using the best and most glowing terms. Baras hadn't been fooled, however.

"Are you growing overly sentimental where my apprentice is concerned, Quinn," the Darth had demanded.

"My lord? I'm not given to sentiment, actually." Quinn had responded.

"Make no mistake, Quinn. If I feel there's any threat from my apprentice, I will destroy her. If you lie to me, I'll assume there's a threat." Baras had pointed a heavy finger at Quinn, his face shining through the holotransmission. Quinn had felt his chest tighten painfully, knew the Darth was using the force to emphasize his power.

"I would not lie to you, my lord. Everything I've spoken of is absolutely true, after all. I understand completely it's impossible to deceive you." Quinn had gasped.

"Good. I'm glad we understand each other." Darth Baras concluded.

So now Quinn sat, contemplating the quandary he found himself in. Because his fear as Baras threatened him hadn't been for his own safety. All he could think, as Baras twisted his breathing into painful wheezes, was that he'd say or do something that compromised Lusiel. As Quinn sat there, watching the stars slide by, he began to understand, only barely, there was no way for him to prevent the inevitable confrontation between the two Sith.

And it wasn't Baras he hoped might win.


	31. Chapter 31

"Hey, sweet cheeks! Why doncha you jump up there an' swing them head tails 'round, too, huh?"

Vette shot the drunkard making the slurred remark a nasty glare. As if the only good a Twi-lek was for, was shaking her ass on a table, she thought. "After you! Although I doubt you'd be able to stand up there long enough to make one rotation on the pole."

"Wahhht? Watch shiss, girlie!" The heavily intoxicated youth stumbled over to the table where a pretty red-skinned Twi-lek was gyrating to the pulsing beat of the music. He shouted at the dancer, who tried ignoring him, and then proceeded to yank her down off the platform she was balanced upon. Vette laughed as she watched security dump the sod into the nearest lift heading down out of the VIP Lounge.

Ah, good times, Vette smiled.

"You did that on purpose." Quinn said from across the table.

"Duh. Come on, Captain Stick in the Mud. Live a little!" Vette rolled her eyes at him.

"Living shouldn't require increasing the work load of the staff of this lounge, Vette. That dancer, for one thing, probably wouldn't thank you right now."

Vette glared at the captain. Mollified at having made a point even Vette, apparently, couldn't dispute, Quinn leaned back to scan the growing crowd of lounge patrons for Lusiel.

A group of soldiers at the next table began yelling and pounding their fists on their table all of sudden, all of them leaning to watch the viewscreens overhead depicting a particularly vicious round of Huttball, apparently. Quinn glanced at the screens himself, just to verify the Frog Dogs were, in fact, winning, and then he went back to drinking … whatever it was Vette had plunked down in front of him. He'd only begun drinking it when Vette remarked it was Lusiel's favorite beverage. It was rather good, too. Fruity.

"You didn't drink mine, did you?" Lusiel smiled as she slid into her seat, placing several packages at her feet. The market section of the Imperial Fleet had been particularly busy.

Vette snorted. "He's barely drunk his own. The day I see a drunk Quinn, I'm posting the vid on the holonet."

"That day will never come," Quinn asserted.

"A challenge! You're under notice, now, captain. I'll endeavor to get you drunk somehow, some day and the ensuing shenanigans will be recorded. Whether they are observed or not may be negotiated. Or not. Depends on how funny I find it. Is it a deal?" Vette held her hand out towards Quinn.

"It won't happen, Vette," Quinn responded.

"Then there's no reason not to let me have my way."

Quinn eyed her warily. "You can't tamper with the food and drink dispensers I use, Vette. Any food and drink dispensers. None. Anywhere."

Vette pouted, watching her easy triumph blow away like a balloon losing its air, complete with fizzy screeching sound. Still, the challenge itself would make it even more fun. She agreed, reaching a blue hand for the captain to shake. It wasn't long before Vette was bouncing her way across the lounge, intent on talking to one of the Twi-lek severs she thought she recognized.

"You've made her happy. Chances are she'll stay busy dreaming up ways to get you inebriated, now." Lusiel remarked.

"Exactly why I agreed, my lord."

"Of course."


	32. Chapter 32

Chrimar Noven felt himself tumble to the floor after a hard shove in the back from the madwoman. She simply had to be mad, anyway. It was the only explanation for the morning's events.

Which had been proceeding relatively well until _she_ stormed over to his table at the café and bodily restrained him, actually. He had cried out piteously against her diabolical abuse, most especially when she handily thrust a slave collar onto his neck. It had done no good begging her to desist, though. There was a dark fellow behind her that even asked if she required assistance with placing the collar properly! Rather than responding to any of his pleas, any request he made to know what he'd done to earn such horrid mistreatment, the madwoman had only slapped him hard across the back of the head and hummed approval at the placement of the stiff collar against his neck.

It was simply beyond belief! He was a proud and free nobleman of Alderaan, after all. Such indignities were not to be tolerated.

But the woman had only tugged him unceremoniously through the streets, even as he stumbled along behind her, whining wretchedly in his distress. The few times he fell the woman yanked him back up again, hard, pulling against his arm and shoulder to such a point he was certain she'd actually injured him. By the gods, she was strong! Worse, though, was the pinch of the collar, as it twisted against the pale, sensitive skin at the back of his neck. He'd seen the madwoman's companion, that dark fellow who'd earlier threatened further mortification towards him, handling the collar's control device. He wasn't certain what would actually happen when the button on the device was pressed but he'd heard stories.

He was crying loudly as the madwoman tugged and pulled him through the doors of the Thul palace and marched him towards Lord Jorad's throne. That's when she shoved him and he fell blubbering at Lord Jorad's feet.

Lord Jorad, by the graces above, bless him, jumped to his feet in shock and horror. "Chrimar? Is that Chrimar Noven? That's a free nobleman of Alderaan! Unhand him! Who are you? What do you think you're doing?"

Chrimar Noven climbed slowly, painfully to his feet. The ready and verbal support from Lord Jorad emboldened him and he eyed the madwoman with bitter recrimination. He even growled at her! Then the dark fellow handed the woman the control device to his slave collar. Chrimar whimpered and shuddered back from them once again, cowering against Lord Jorad's throne.

The madwoman was unfazed. "If you are to join the Empire, you should take more care to recognize those with power."

Chrimar's eyes widened with renewed horror. His gaze swept the woman from head to toe, from her dark features, with her ebony tresses and chocolate brown eyes, down across the red robe that covered a blackened metallic breastplate, matching leg pieces, all the way to her cruel-looking heavy boots, and he knew. Tales of the Sith were whispered in the darkest of nights, of their cruelty and their horrible power. It was said they _enjoyed_ torture, they _thrilled_ at killing! He'd scoffed at the thought anyone could be so evil. But now he knew. The stories were all true.

The Sith who ruled the Empire were, indeed, terrible and evil. And they had come to ruin his morning café!

Lord Jorad had started sputtering and bowing to the Sith. "M … My lord!"

His day couldn't possibly get any worse! How dare Lord Jorad bow to this … this Sith! He spat out his condemnation of the Thul lord's cowardice. "All of Alderaan will be thrown into chains because of you," Chrimar declared.

That's when it happened. The Sith looked at him, unperturbed, and waved aside his proud words. Quite simply, to boot. "Silence, slave," she told him, "The sooner you see reason, the easier it will be." Then she raised the control device and pressed the button. Like she didn't even care!

The pain ripped through him like a rabid whipping force, moving down his spine in a vivid arch of sensation. He felt his teeth sizzling, his hair standing on end, his back arching. He yelped and cried out a mad scream of agony, his head thrown back. His bladder released suddenly and the smell of urine swept through the place.

Chrimar fell down to the floor where he began to sob, broken, defeated. Utterly demoralized. Above him, Lord Jorad was talking but Chrimar couldn't actually understand the words. But he knew that a holo projection appeared and began jabbering into the exchange, as well. The man in the image was the representative from the Empire tasked to bring Thul to victory over the Organas. Chrimar began to re-gather his broken thoughts and gradually listened into the conversation, as the mad people leading the Thuls plotted efforts to undermine the Organa offensive. What was most horrible of all was that the Sith - the madwoman who'd so terribly, so evil-mindedly abused him - she was made the ultimate leader of the course!

Chrimar staggered back to his feet, facing the lot of them with his fists clenched. He announced, his voice pitifully dry and broken, "You'll never find them! They have top-of-the-line cloaking, better than anything the Empire makes! No probes will get through, no spy-sats, nothing!" Chrimar scowled angrily at the Sith, determined she knew of his disdain.

She did. It finally occurred to him she just didn't care. Dryly, she raised the control device once more, and Chrimar began to cry again. "You are an imbecile," she said. He heard the click of the button. Then everything went black.


	33. Chapter 33

**This remains one of my absolute favorite scenes in the SW story. So you can imagine my surprise when I struggled so hard to put it into words. I think I changed it like a dozen times. After hours of effort, this is the result. Bear in mind, I think Duke Kendo is one of the most despicable characters in the game, a pure weasel and I wanted to capture that sense, here. So I added a few nuances that aren't neccessarily included in the game itself. Hope I succeeded. Enjoy.**

* * *

Quinn shifted, feeling the unfamiliar tug of the silver chain against the back of his neck and the rubbing of the pendant against the heat of his chest. He'd found the thing tucked in a small box that Lusiel had placed in his chair on the bridge.

The box itself had been gorgeous, made of dark mahogany wood that matched Lusiel's eyes, overlaid with silvery metallic swirls Quinn suspected were electrum. Quinn had tucked the box into his personal effects, knew he'd never be able to look at it without thinking of her.

But he'd placed the actual jewelry it contained around his neck. The necklace was silver, rather thick, obviously designed for a man to wear. But it was the pendant that truly inspired. Suspended from a silver clasp, the dark blue of the dragon pearl ceaselessly swirled with a luminescent sheen.

It wasn't one of the dragon pearls they themselves had captured on Tatooine. Actually, it was far smaller than any of the ones they'd acquired. Lusiel had very obviously bartered for this particular pearl, probably traded one of her own larger trophies in order to obtain it. The effort she'd put into finding such a particular jewel conveyed a level of worth and value in him he remained uncertain of, so he persisted in shifting, to feel the tug of the pearl against his own heart.

The restless motion kept him firmly planted in that room of his mind he'd long since allocated to contemplations of Lusiel, only because he'd found he enjoyed such meandering thoughts very much.

Right now, he felt the pearl lying hot against his chest as he watched Lusiel stepping into the doorway of a highly pretentious office at Duke Kendo's estate. A small, wiry man with graying hair and a bushy mustache was pacing in front of a holoterminal, where the images of two flamboyantly dressed Alderaanian nobles were bickering. Lusiel stopped and reclined against the entrance, taking in the room, the duke and the ring of Sith warriors circling the place, several of whom glanced her way and then back to the duke they were obviously guarding.

Lusiel kept her attention on the altercation playing out in Duke Kendo's office. Quinn wasn't really surprised when the two nobles rudely broke off the transmission, leaving Kendo to mutter threats about the fellows under his breath. The nobles on Alderaan presented themselves as overly arrogant and pompous, hardly worthy of the conceit they trumpeted. They would all benefit from the order and stability the Empire might afford them, he thought.

Lusiel stepped into the room as soon as the holotransmission had faded, approaching the duke and announcing herself. Quinn stayed just behind her, watching as the duke turned to face Lusiel. The man ran his eyes boldly up and down Lusiel's figure, his gaze lingering on her breasts and thighs. Quinn clenched his jaw, taking a step closer to Lusiel, as Duke Kendo eyed Lusiel like he would a bit of meat good only for tasting. But Lusiel merely gave the man a tired, disinterested stare, leaning into her right hip as she crossed her arms negligently across her chest.

"Duke Kendo, Darth Baras sent me." Lusiel announced in a stilted monotone.

The duke frowned at her, stepping forward as if to intimidate Lusiel with his power and authority. Lusiel, however, was left looking down at the little man, ruining any semblance of dominance he might have had over the situation. Quinn knew her well enough to guess she was biting her tongue to keep from laughing.

"A woman Sith. I've never seen one of those before. All the other Sith who serve me, here, are men." His head was aligned with Lusiel's firm breasts and he arrogantly kept his eyes peeled there. "I don't normally appreciate being interrupted. However, I might make an exception, for you, lady Sith."

Quinn pursed his lips. He might have shaken his head at him, warningly. Except he honestly didn't care enough to warn the man of the danger he was pursuing. No, he rather hoped the man would get burned after basically shaking his cock at Lusiel and then expecting her to be impressed. Quinn refused to save him from such offensive stupidity and he subsided, settling back onto the balls of his feet, waiting.

Lusiel rolled her eyes at the little man. "Darth Baras told me you had information I might use to complete my task on this world."

Duke Kendo snorted indelicately. "Darth Baras isn't even on my radar. I have a war to wage and personal ambitions to attain here. Do you really think I have time enough to devote to whatever silly task your master has set you upon?"

"Is breathing one of your personal ambitions, Duke?" Lusiel fired back at him.

"Oh ho! A threat!" Duke Kendo chuckled, low and meanly. "You perhaps don't realize the risk you take in threatening me. My Sith guards will make you pay for that. Too bad, really. You and I might have had so much fun. Instead, your corpse will be my message to your master."

Lusiel appeared utterly bored as the duke crossed to a nearby couch and proceeded to recline back against the cushions, arrogantly certain of his power over her. He waved tiredly at one of the nearby Sith. "Fimress, make this intruder a distant memory will you?"

Quinn regarded the warrior who came to stiff readiness at the duke's insistence. The man was broad-shouldered, tough-looking with dark hair cut so short it was only a brief fuzz on the top of his head. His armor was a dark red quite typical of the Sith. The Sith looked over at Lusiel and nodded slightly, an imperceptible message which she accepted with a brief roll of her shoulder.

Fimress faced the duke. "I am sorry, Duke Kendo. We are assigned to protect you and support your interests in the struggle for Alderaan." His eyes hardened. "But we serve the Emperor first. And we will not cross Darth Baras. _Or_ his apprentice."

Lusiel approved, gesturing. "It's good to know there are still some, here, who know the meaning of respect."

Fimress looked at her. "We consider you an ally, Friend." He bowed low, saluting Lusiel with a hand place across his heart. Each Sith in the room, one by one, saluted Lusiel similarly, their heads bowing. The implication of nuanced political motions was obvious, the reality of Sith dominance overriding everything. Beyond the walls of this place eddied far larger pools with much greater and more deadly fish at play. Those Sith in this room were already swimming there and determined to swim for longer a time, each moving carefully into position. And Lusiel was a step ahead of the rest.

Duke Kendo was only just realizing what a tiny little fish he really was.

Lusiel didn't smile or otherwise remark to the duke as he began to fidget in his seat before he finally rose awkwardly to his feet, rocking on his heels in a discomfited gesture. "Wasn't expecting that, actually. Dreadfully sorry for the misunderstanding. I was obviously hasty in disregarding your master's needs. How might I make amends?"

Lusiel responded politely. Which Quinn well knew obscured how angry she really was. Lusiel was more charming in her approach to those she liked or even merely tolerated. The boredom in her current tone was indicative of menace. At least now the man finally suspected exactly how close to destruction he actually was. It was somewhat pleasant watching the man's mindless attempt at an apology.

It wouldn't actually save him, Quinn thought. The only reason his heart continued beating was Lusiel's need of him, in fact. Once that necessity was used up … "Relax, Duke Kendo. Darth Baras doesn't want you dead. For now."

Lusiel's assurance was designed to calm the man. It didn't work. He continued to gibber and prattle. Quinn used his datapad to record the information Duke Kendo provided, marking the name of the woman he insisted had some connection to Jaesa Willsaam's parents as well as her location on the map. He glanced at Lusiel once he was sure they had enough useful information from the duke in order to proceed, noticed her watching him and saw her give him a brief nod of understanding when he put his datapad away.

"One last thing, my lady Sith. If you're able and you have the time, if you could have Lady Renata brought to the palace, here, I would be in your debt. She needs to be … questioned, of course." Duke Kendo said, his voice dropping low.

Lusiel shrugged back at him. "Perhaps. If the mood strikes me."

Kendo nodded, expressing his oh so fondest wishes that eventuality. Lusiel had enough, finally, of the niceties she'd been forced to engage in, turned sharply on her heel and started walking from the room. The duke called after her, sharing several more platitudes, but Lusiel ignored him utterly, only nodding to Fimress as she went.

She turned to Quinn as they emerged from the estate, looking up and into his eyes. She smiled with pleasure at being able to finally look _up_ at a man. "I was frustrated having such a tiny man pretend to be bigger than he was. I had to bend my head to look at him, in fact, and my neck was becoming sore."

"I can see how that would be uncomfortable, my lord. Perhaps next time we can have him stand on a box." Quinn dramatically rubbed his jaw, apparently thinking. Lusiel chocked back her laughter.

"Not sure it would help. The image of his ceaseless strutting is already stuck in my head. Here's hoping he isn't too stupid and learns his place quickly. I'll only suffer him as a thorn in my side for so long a time."

"As it should be, my lord." Quinn was certain Lusiel wouldn't leave a breathing Duke Kendo when they finally left Alderaan.

What a satisfying thought.


	34. Chapter 34

Darth Baras was struggling with a sense of regret, a state he wasn't comfortable with as he suffered it so rarely. Yet he found himself regretting the destruction of one Overseer Tremel. The man's death at the time had been a rather satisfying experience, the removal of a particularly loathsome nuisance, an upstart overseer who supposed himself capable of driving Baras' course.

Now Baras struggled, rather, to stop the increasing strength and power of Tremel's protégé, to halt her determined course towards an incredible supremacy, a dominance over the course of the Empire that could, potentially, surpass his own. He refused to have anyone outstrip his own authority and voice, most certainly not a brash, unrefined youth - a mere hoyden.

Which is why Baras now sat across the table looking over a light repast at a meaningless nobody of a Korriban teacher known as Overseer Siloon. At least, Baras thought dryly, the man is human. Stars forbid he be saddled with an alien throughout the tiresome and sure to be useless meeting. Siloon, however, was the only teacher Baras had managed to find who'd been teaching at Korriban when Lusiel had been discovered, had in fact worked closely with Tremel at the time. Although Siloon was quick to tell Baras he himself had never actually trained the young Sith directly.

"No, my lord, Overseer Tremel took over her training very early. He directed every stage of the process himself, quite deliberately. And even he admitted he wasn't sure the girl was ready for the academy when it is he called for her. From what I gather, most of his training with her focused on her martial skills, which I'm told are quite spectacular." Siloon was emphatic.

"But why was Tremel so specific?" Baras challenged.

Siloon said, "He said she was capable of enormous strength, far beyond anything he'd seen before. But that it needed careful and methodical control, which is what he stressed in her training. Control, at all times, he said."

Baras sat back in his chair, as Siloon drank slowly from his glass of wine. Red, of course. Baras had no patience for anyone who couldn't drink of the full depth a good red wine offered.

"What happens when she doesn't control her strength?" Baras pondered aloud, not really thinking to have an answer.

Siloon only shrugged, concentrating more on his wine than on Baras. So easily and simply did Baras finally get the answer he was looking for. "She killed one of the Sith testing her force abilities. She was only eight years old at the time. But she managed to literally rip the man - a true Sith of some years - into shreds. There were pieces of him all around the room when we finally burst through the doors."

"How did she manage it?"

"She told us later that something just 'came out of her' when she became angry. Tremel supposed it was as if the force itself, the darkest portion of it, actually invested itself in the girl, so that she was, during that time, the force itself. And it was entirely rage."

Baras was horrified. Such power was unheard of, more dangerous than anything he'd heard of, except for that of the Emperor himself, perhaps. Should he be faced with such an incredible ability, it could potentially destroy him. He felt himself shudder at the mere thought. It must not be allowed.

"I have never seen her do any such thing, however." Baras insisted.

"Of course not, my lord. Nor would you. Tremel's training was quite specific, that she avoid fully manifesting such strength. It debilitates her, anyway. She's utterly helpless until she recovers from such an event and can be easily destroyed when in that state. Plus it takes enormous risk just to express it."

"Risk? What sort of risk?"

"She has to be scared, my lord. The ability seems to act as a form of self-defense against an enormous and incredible level of unmitigated fear, one that, given time, would surely destroy the girl's mind."

"You would have to know what scared her."

"But that's easy enough, my lord. It's why she killed the tester that day, after all. He did manage to scare her."

Baras leaned forward. "What did he do that scared her so badly?"

Siloon wet his lips, feeling his throat become suddenly dry. "I'm suddenly not feeling very well, my lord."

"Tell me what I want to know, you fool. And I may give you the antidote."


	35. Chapter 35

Lusiel couldn't quite get past the man's absurd little hat. Every time he snarled some sort of insult at her, the tassel perched at the very center of the top of his hat swung around in a neat circle. It reminded Lusiel of one of the toys her father gave her when she was a child, a fan of some sort that twirled in a colorful spinning motion when she held it up into the wind.

"I would rather see Alderaan blasted into space debris than given over to the Empire," Lord Cedric Killesa declared fervently, gesticulating towards Lusiel. Lusiel coughed as the small tassel on his head made another rotation. He snarled again. "Look at you! You don't even have the guts to fight me yourself. Instead you hide behind a carton of thermals. If you had a shred of decency, you'd settle this in an honorable duel, you against me."

This time Lusiel actually chuckled at his obvious goading. She almost asked him, though, if he planned on taking his hat off before they dueled. But she stopped herself after thinking of how much fun it would be to see how many rotations of that silly tassel she could make before the fight was over. So she waved Quinn towards her.

"Of course, my lord. I will endeavor to keep careful track of every rotation the tassel on his hat makes during the course of the battle. Would you be willing to make a wager on the outcome?" Quinn's eyes twinkled at Lusiel. She considered the matter carefully.

"Very well, Quinn. I bet I can get the tassel to spin a dozen times before he finally capitulates." Lusiel insisted.

Quinn scoffed. "Surely you can do better than that. I'll say you can make it spin twenty times before the end of the battle."

"No, no. I'll beat him far faster than twenty rotations. It can only be a dozen. What do you give me if I win?"

Quinn looked at her. "What is it you would want of me?"

"Oh! I thought that was purely obvious. Have I been too circumspect with you, Quinn?"

"Not at all, my lord." He looked at her, his eyes slowly darkening. "I only wish to specify what you'll want of this particular wager."

Lusiel gave the question serious thought. Behind her the treasonous Alderaanians shifted, their boots shuffling against the dirt of the floor. One of them grunted. She ignored them entirely.

"When I win the wager, Quinn, I want you to kiss me."

Quinn nodded. "Agreed. However, when I win this wager, _you_ will kiss _me_."

"Done."

Lusiel almost danced over towards her opponent. She smiled merrily at Killesa's bewildered expression, waving at him to open the fight. She felt the song rise up in her, the beat and melody surging. Her lightsaber twirled and danced, even as she did, her feet moving evenly over the dirt surface of the ruined tunnel chamber. She met the man's advance and spun around him, pushing her back against his so that he stumbled, before spinning once again to face him front-wise. Every motion was a twirl and a spin, and she counted.

At five, she butted his shoulder, spinning him around.

At eight, she stomped on his foot so that he twisted and went to a knee.

At ten, she whirled in a wide arc to Killesa's left, causing him to spin and stumble.

At twelve, she laid her lightsaber across his right hip, forcing him to rotate a final desperate time as he cried out in pain.

"I … concede." Killesa gasped, holding his side in obvious pain. "You have the better skill. Perhaps it is Alderaan's fate to fall to the Empire. I will tell my people they must find a way to live through these times." He looked towards his retainers, nodding, and they carefully backed from the chamber. Lusiel was gratified he faced his death well, at least. Tassel or no tassel, in fact. She was happy enough with the fellow she made the killing blow a quick and easy thing, a single swipe that sent his hat tumbling soddenly to the ground.

She turned, looking at Quinn, watching as he walked across the chamber to stand in front of her.

"You did win the wager, my lord."

"I did."

Quinn reached up with both hands, laying his fingers against both sides of Lusiel's face. He ran his fingers up and across her jaw, until the tips of his fingers swept over the rims of her ears. Lusiel gasped, felt Quinn pulling her face towards his own, until their lips just whispered against each other's and she could feel the puff of air as Quinn breathed softly against her mouth. Quinn gently butted her nose with his, ran his tongue lightly across her lips, coaxing, tempting.

Lusiel finally opened her lips, to meet his tongue as he swept forward, pressing his lips firmly against hers. Standing there, as her boots soaked in the blood of her enemy, Lusiel welcomed the wild, breathless movements of Quinn's mouth against her own. She luxuriated in every swipe of his tongue, every moan he gave into her mouth, every single sensation. And by the time it was done her entire body was quivering, hot.

They stayed that way for several long moments, their foreheads pressed against each other's, their mouths softly teasing. Until Quinn stepped away, and Lusiel watched him, watched his eyes, so dark they were like a moonlit night sky.

Lusiel smiled slowly. "Oh, we are so going to do that again."

"No doubt, my lord."


	36. Chapter 36

Lusiel watched the fellow Lady Renata labelled Windredd charge at her, looking absurdly like that now very dead Krayt Dragon on Tatooine. His face had turned red with exertion, his mouth was wide open as he shouted, and his nostrils were thickly flaring as he snorted. She wondered if he'd stomp his feet, too, so she watched. Sure enough, he was pounding the floor with his two heavy booted feet as he drummed his way towards her.

All very tiresome, really. Which she blamed firmly on the ever so petite Lady Renata Alde. Who stood blithely behind the soon to be dead Windredd, draped in brocade silks colored sky blue and never mind the way the color clashed with her dark skin. Had Renata done anything in her own defense, anything at all, Lusiel would have some small margin of respect for her. If she'd tossed a punch, thrown a bone, kicked Lusiel's shin – something. Instead, she tossed Windredd at her, the poor idiot. Lusiel was utterly disgusted with this example of Alderaanian lady-hood.

Lusiel perhaps should have mentioned the Krayt Dragon beforehand, she thought, though. Maybe Renata would have thought better of throwing Windredd away. Maybe.

Then she neatly sidestepped Windredd's charge, just watching him as he thundered past on his still-stomping feet. She swiped her lightsaber in a singing arc against Windredd's lower back, heard him bark out a nasty cry of pain. He spun around to face her again, roaring, then raised his chunky staff high over his large head. Lusiel slashed at him faster than he could swing against her, however. She sank her blade deep into his belly, saw him blink at her owlishly. He groaned painfully as she yanked her lightsaber free and stepped smoothly back from his falling body.

"Lady … I …sorry …" Windredd whimpered his dying words. It was actually quite pitiful. Lusiel stood over him for several seconds, thoughtful. Quinn stepped closer and she mumbled to him, "Whatever brute we end up adding to the crew needs to be smarter than this one, all right?"

Quinn nodded. "I'll make a note of it, my lord."

Sudden and loud bawling erupted in the room. Renata had flung herself down onto the floor, where she begged for mercy in sobbing appeals. Lusiel watched her in a sort of stunned silence for several moments. The spectacle forced Lusiel to consider what value Alderaan truly offered the Empire, only because such a weak people could hinder far more than they'd benefit.

"Enough. Just tell me what I need to know," Lusiel broke through the woman's weeping.

Renata glanced up from her position on the floor. The Sith woman was standing so solidly, so angrily, there in the middle of the room. She'd at least stepped over Windredd's corpse, so that her boots obscured the thing from Renata's gaze. All she knew, though, was that the Sith standing there was the most horrible vision she'd ever taken in. The incongruity of her wickedness and her beauty confounded Renata, in fact. She simply couldn't imagine evil being so beautiful.

That was when Duke Kendo's Sith entourage entered the room and ringed the horrible woman who'd killed Windredd. Seeing them, Renata knew that Kendo was once more playing to have her at his whim. She pictured the Duke, remembered his beady little eyes sizing her up, and she shuddered to think of him touching her, using her. She couldn't let it happen, she just couldn't! Oh, poor Windredd, she thought, looking again towards her downed champion lying there. If only he'd succeeded, just this last once.

"Please, please, Lady Sith! Don't let them take me to the Duke! Anything, I'll tell you anything you want to know," Renata began crying again. "I do know who Jaesa Willsaam worked for! Before she left with the Jedi, Jaesa was a handmaiden of Geselle Organna of House Organna. They were inseparable! Now Geselle leads Organna troops in the war against House Ulgo."

"Where would I find this general Geselle Organna?" Lusiel asked.

"Her headquarters are somewhere on the front lines."

Fimress interrupted, telling Lusiel, "Duke Kendo would know how to find the general. I am sure he'd be pleased enough if we deliver the fair lady to him, that he would give us the information you need."

Lusiel nodded at Fimress. "I never did intend to keep her safe."

Renata burst into wild tears once again. "I thought by telling you what I knew, you'd show mercy!"

Lusiel looked down at Windredd's dead body. "Your protectors don't seem to far well, Lady Renata. And I'm not the idiot this fellow was." Lusiel toed the body negligently. She could still hear Renata's sobs long after the woman was pulled from the room.


	37. Chapter 37

"I am beside myself with appreciation for your delivering Lady Renata to me. She will prove most … useful." Duke Kendo said with an air of unctuous contentment but Lusiel only regarded him with pretended graciousness.

The duke continued to assume Lusiel was prettily disposed towards affectionate, courtly attitudes, as every other woman of his sorry acquaintance had been. It suited her to leave him floundering in that miscalculation. By the time he finally realized she was predisposed towards a potent might rather than any fawning helplessness, he'd be ill-prepared for any real defense of himself. Renata's fate only served to soothe any lingering concern he might have that Lusiel was determined to destroy him.

She wanted him to back himself into a corner, rather. Like a rat. With no big kitties around to save him. She nodded slightly towards Fimress, standing behind Duke Kendo, his suffered patience obvious.

And in the meantime she'd make use of Kendo as the tool he really was.

With that in mind, Lusiel smiled lightly. "Anything for House Thul." Behind her, she sensed Quinn's approval of her response. Quinn far better understood her, anyway. He'd given her several valuable suggestions as they'd returned to Kendo's estate. Lusiel enjoyed putting his advice to work. It was such an easy way to please her captain. Hey, another justification for restraining her desire to break Kendo's face.

That thought actually helped her remain smiling as Duke Kendo continued talking.

"Gesselle Oranna leads the Organna war effort against House Ulgo. Her headquarters is protected by an impenetrable force field. No firepower can breach it." Duke Kendo pondered. "Our task, then, is to find a way around her defense … wait … yes! We can cut the power to the force field! I know which generator Geselle must be using. Once the force field is down you can just walk into the general's headquarters. It's perfect!"

Quinn stepped forward. "Do you have schematics that describe the generator and its defenses? We need to ensure it doesn't disrupt the power to Thul resources."

Duke Kendo scowled over at Quinn. "I'm not accustomed to servants who interrupt their betters with mere opinions. I'd already considered such concerns, anyway."

Lusiel frowned as Quinn stepped back into his customary place behind her. "Please share your thoughts, Duke Kendo." She listened attentively to Kendo's assurances about power distribution on Alderaan, nodding intermittently as he proceeded. Finally, Kendo stopped. Lusiel looked behind her, pointedly.

"What is _your_ assessment of the Duke's plan, captain?"

Kendo started, looking at Quinn with suddenly wide eyes. Fimress shifted his stance, smiling slightly as the Duke tensed. The most powerful Sith threatened not through overt demonstrations of their strength. Their threats were more careful, rather. And thus far more deadly.

"It's sound, my lord. If the force field operates on an emergency power tap, when the system transfers to backup sources, the tap will have to be reengaged." Quinn bowed his head slightly towards Lusiel.

Duke Kendo smiled broadly. "See? Your man obviously knows his stuff." He turned and waved at Fimress, ordering the Sith to retrieve the necessary items for Lusiel's task. Fimress wasn't able to hide his scowl, however.

Lusiel was amused that Kendo believed she'd rely on anything he provided her, however. She glanced at Quinn, saw him dip his head at her. She knew her captain's capabilities. She doubted anything that Duke Kendo effected for her. Lusiel took the materials Fimress handed over, even thanked the duke.

But then she insisted, "The schematics, too."

"Oh. Of course. Fimress? Get the schematics for our friend, here, would you?" Duke Kendo nodded. Lusiel bit her lip as Fimress left sullenly to retrieve the schematics. She inclined her head as he handed them to her. Duke Kendo frowned as Lusiel easily passed the schematics along to her captain. The fellow seemed to be given far greater esteem than a mere servant was due. He watched as the Imperial followed Lusiel out of the room, thoughtful.

He asked, as an aside to Fimress, "Is it common for Sith to employ Imperial officers like that?"

Fimress frowned at Kendo. "No one tells the Sith what to do. The man is hers as long as she wants him."

Duke Kendo was startled. "Wants him? Are they lovers then?"

"I would not presume to know the answer to that question, my lord. But she obviously values his skills and capabilities. It speaks highly of his potential."

Duke Kendo looked at Fimress thoughtfully. Then he mumbled to himself, nodding, "They're lovers."


	38. Chapter 38

Quinn was studying the schematics to the power generator station they were intent on destroying, when someone stumbled into the table where they'd perched while Lusiel finished eating her food. She was still prone to skipping meals, just forgot to eat, basically, whenever she was overly focused on some given task. It spoke well of her dedication to her work. But it also undermined her health, something Quinn was determined to prevent.

They'd been seated in the cantina just outside the Palace marketplace for about an hour, only because Quinn had told Lusiel he was hungry, so that she yanked him into the cantina looking for some food. Since they were there anyway, Quinn pointed out then, Lusiel might as well eat, too. She'd looked at him, surprised, and remarked, "Oh, yes, I _am_ hungry." Quinn had carefully refrained from smiling as they proceeded to eat a rather hearty meal of nerf-beef on sticks with dipping sauce over flatbread with a side of stewed kebroot.

He'd also pointedly ignored Vette's commlink message asking if Lusiel had eaten. Listening to Vette's regular reminders about Lusiel's "proper care" was grating to Quinn's sensibilities. Then again very much everything about Vette grated on Quinn's sensibilities.

That was when someone bumped into their table. Quinn's empty plate almost tumbled to the floor, leaving him scrambling to retrieve it before it shattered, when he heard whoever had clumsily bumped into the table stammer out an apology. "Oh, my, I'm so so sorry, caught my foot on that step there. And why'd they go and put a step right there in the middle of the floor, I say. So sorry!"

Unfortunately for the speaker, Quinn recognized the voice. Else the man might have gotten away with the look he'd likely shot Quinn's datapad. However, the man was someone Quinn had worked endlessly to capture. That he was there, right there on Alderaan, could've been an incredible coincidence. Although Quinn highly doubted that was the case. When it came to groups like the SIS, such "bumps" rarely were coincidental.

Quinn's hand shot out and seized hold of the man's shoulder. "Don't move, Voloren."

"What? Who're you talking about? That's not my name! Let me go! Someone make this madman let me go!" The human man, dressed in standard garb traditional to Alderaan, twisted in Quinn's hold, but the Imperial doggedly maintained his grip.

The patrons of the cantina were startled, with several gasps and shouts starting to echo through the place. Someone yelled about calling for the guards. Several people just broke and ran out of the place, determined to hide from anything involving Imperial business. Quinn only hoped none of the miscreants running away worked with the foolish agent currently squirming and shouting against his grasp.

That's when security burst through the doors. The guards eyed the two men fighting against each other with suspicion, demanding, "What's going on here?"

"This … this Imperial is insane! He keeps calling me by a strange name I've never heard and won't let me go!"

Quinn shook him, hard, so that his teeth rattled against the back of his mouth. "Shut up! You guards, leave! This man is being taken into Imperial custody. He is no concern of yours."

"'Fraid we can't do that, Mr. Imperial Sir. This fellow is a citizen of Alderaan, not an Imperial, and we'll be taking him from your completely unkind hold right now."

"Do not make me put down my spoon and deal with you idiots."

Everyone froze when Lusiel finally spoke, addressing the guards. Quinn kept his attention focused on the agent, his hold stayed firm. But the guards spun to look at her, finally, and both of the men gulped as they took in her armor and weapon. That she was blithely continuing to eat her meal just struck them as particularly frightening for some reason. But there she was, munching on stewed kebroot, even as the entire cantina grew cold and quiet.

"You're … uh … Sith? Right?"

Lusiel gulped down another bite, balefully staring at the guards.

"Err … I'm sure you understand we need to take this fellow off for … uh … questioning."

Lusiel shook her head. "He seems to be in custody already, where he will remain until he's questioned by Imperial authorities. He is no concern of yours. Now leave."

"But this Imperial, here, has no right … !"

Lusiel glared. "Are you going to continue disturbing my meal right now?"

"Oh. No, my … my lord … I guess not."

The man Quinn had called Voloren began struggling against Quinn's hold once it became increasingly clear the guards weren't going to assist him. Quinn simply held fast as the guards backed from the cantina. "Come back, you can't leave me here! I'm Alderaanian! Damn you, you fools!"

"Shut up, Voloren." Quinn gestured with his free hand that Lusiel continue eating. "My lord, you're nearly done with your food."

Lusiel smirked at him as she picked up a piece of flatbread and continued chewing. They waited, patiently. It really wasn't long before a Chiss approached the small group, a sniper rifle slung over his shoulder, and remarked, "I assume this fellow needs to be questioned. Explain, briefly."

Quinn nodded at the Chiss. "I was tracking this fellow, here, several years ago. I had him cornered. But I was forced to give up my pursuit when my commander recalled me. I've been hunting him in my free time every since. He's an SIS agent known as Voloren."

The Chiss regarded Lusiel, his big red eyes seeming to stare, almost, into nothingness. Lusiel remarked, "If my captain says this man is an SIS agent, then he is. Take him."

The Chiss nodded. "Of course, my lord. We'll question him at length. Captain, please ensure all information you have on the agent is transferred to Imperial Intelligence at once."

The man glared at them all. "You'll not get away with this."

"No, it's you who didn't get away this time around, actually," Quinn stated.

Lusiel watched the Chiss drag the protesting human away, as she spooned the very last bit of her food into her mouth. Then she smiled at Quinn.

"Ah, Quinn! Food and a show! How thrilling!"


	39. Chapter 39

Quinn was in the ship's hold, standing with Vette in front of the trade table, a smattering of tools scattered across the surface. The two of them were carefully manipulating a spherical gadget Quinn had tucked into a gravity-holder, as Vette slowly inserted explosives material into its innards. The entire process was interspersed with Quinn's commands and Vette's grunts he shut up.

"You're holding the tongs too tightly, loosen your grip."

"If you don't stop telling me what to do I'm going to drop this bomb crap right on your damn foot!"

"I wouldn't be able to finish the charge if I was in the med bay."

"Nerf-poo. You'd hobble out here on a prosthetic foot and finish the thing."

"Vette…"

"Shut up!"

Lusiel leaned her shoulder against the door jamb to watch them work, literally biting her lip to keep from laughing. Actually, she feared making a sound that startled them so that they injured themselves. It wasn't overly wise to frighten anyone putting together an explosive charge, Lusiel thought.

So she waited patiently as Quinn and Vette finished assembling the bomb, smiling as they continued arguing.

"Why don't you do something more helpful, Vette? Did you gather all those biochemical agents we needed for additional kolto dispensers?"

"Yes, days ago. Do you want me to scratch your eyes out with these tongs?"

"You do realize that, as a slave, you can be punished severely for behaving disrespectfully to a superior, don't you?"

"You would know all about disrespecting a superior. Least that's what the messages from Moff Broysc keep saying."

"Moff Broysc is an ass."

"So are you!"

Lusiel lost the game at that point, and both Quinn and Vette looked around as she suddenly began laughing. The looks on their faces sent her into further peals of laughter, too. Their combined exasperation was so incredibly funny, anyway. Lusiel was enchanted.

"Vette has failed utterly to appreciate the proper nuances of behavior for her station, my lord." Quinn explained.

"Oh no you don't! I know what it means to be a slave, trust me. I simply choose not to act like one of those bootlicking slaves you see far too commonly around here. Nok Drayen always insisted if you act like a slave then a slave's all you'd ever be." Vette exclaimed. "And my lord doesn't want a slave like that, anyway."

"Nok Drayen was a criminal!"

"But he still freed me!"

"Which was a criminal offense!"

"He gave me the closest thing to a family I'd had since my mother and sister were sold, though!"

"And where is he now?"

"Dead! I'm stuck with you, now!"

Lusiel held up a small hand, waving dramatically as if calling for a truce. "I would appreciate being included if we're going to start arguing family dynamics, here."

"Oh, no, my lord, sorry. I may be the child in this equation but Quinn is _not_ going to be anything close to dad for me."

And that's when Lusiel started laughing herself silly once again. Because both Vette and Quinn appeared equally ill as they regarded each other right then. "Go along, Vette. I'm sure Toovee needs help … doing whatever it is he does around here."

Lusiel turned to Quinn after she'd gone, watching as he packed up the charges they'd prepared in careful containers. She was still smiling. "Don't worry, Quinn. I think you'd make an ideal father."

Quinn scoffed. "I hardly had a very good teacher of such skills, my lord."

"Exactly. You know what you should avoid doing. That's half the battle."

Quinn looked over at Lusiel. "I have no force abilities. My appeal is hardly benefited by such a lacking."

But Lusiel shrugged. "Don't sell yourself short, captain. Your lineage is actually quite impressive."

"You've looked into it, then?"

"You looked into _mine_."

"Yes, but …" Quinn shook his head, utterly bewildered. "What is it we're actually talking about, my lord?"

Lusiel laughed again. "Oh, Quinn. You really do amuse me sometimes."


	40. Chapter 40

Lusiel regarded their transportation with adulterated enthusiasm.

The thing was immense, its huge bulbous nose rounded into a snout shape while its long pale gray body extended massively towards its long winding tail. Tremendous wings extended from both of its sides, the skin on them waving gently against the updraft of air. The beast emitted intermittent moaning sounds that echoed through the surrounding forest. It looked like a giant sea creature but it glided through the air. It was absolutely beautiful.

Quinn was excitedly questioning the creature's handlers on its training and care. She looked over at him, amusedly wondering if he'd ask to keep the thing after they'd reached their destination. Even she was doubtful they'd manage successfully to remove the animal from Alderaan, however. Certainly not in her ship, anyway.

She eyed the beast again when it chortled suddenly. She did have to admit the effort might prove worthwhile. Flying the thing over Kaas City would be an invigorating exercise. She smiled slightly at the thought.

"My lord, they're prepared to seat us on the animal's back." Quinn pointed towards the saddle perched on the middle of the creature's huge back. "It's trained to carry us towards a specific location, which is actually several kilometers from where we are headed. We'll have to speeder the rest of the way."

Lusiel nodded, stepping forward to where the handler was holding out his hand. Quinn brushed aside the man's offered assistance, though. He reached down and gripped Lusiel's around the waist, picking her up so she might hoist he legs over the back of the flying animal. Lusiel squirmed a bit until her bottom was comfortably situated in the saddle, her legs falling to either side, and held on tightly as Quinn leapt smoothly into place behind her.

Which was around the time the journey became even better, Lusiel thought. Quinn's legs were draped just behind her own, his thighs pressed against the back of hers. She could feel his hips settle into place against her buttocks, his groin right up against the cleft of her rear. She heard him gasp, chuckled slightly as she glanced back at him over her shoulder.

"Oh, this seat is very comfortable, isn't it, Quinn?" Lusiel waved at the handlers, watching as they released the ties that kept the animal tethered in place. Then the ground began receding, as the beast gently waved its great wings and began to rise high into the air.

Quinn reached forward, to grasp the side of the saddle on either side of Lusiel's waist, giving him a better grip so he didn't end up sliding off the tail of the animal. It also resulted in pressing his broad chest against the warm expanse of her back and left his upper arms nudging the outer curves of Lusiel's breasts. She was utterly delighted. She began rocking in her seat, rubbing her backside against his groin, with completely predictable results.

Quinn lowered his head until his mouth touched the outer shell of Lusiel's ear, and said, "We should endeavor to allocate one of these beasts for your own specific use whenever you might like, my lord." He rubbed his growing hardness against Lusiel's rear quite purposefully, delighting when Lusiel tossed her head back against his shoulder to moan loudly.

"Stars, yes!"


	41. Chapter 41

Lusiel regarded the substantial steel door barring her way to the general she was intent on reaching. She gestured Quinn step back as she pulled her lightsaber out and proceeded to cut her way through. The door grew molten in its frame, glowing bright yellow as the metal dissolved, until the door's catch finally gave way and fell wide open. She was able, then, to hear the excited voices of the general's officers as she walked calmly into the room.

But the two soldiers who immediately entered the room from the doorway opposite the one she walked through hadn't heard her. They grunted, shocked, as they watched the Sith and the Imperial amble into the room. Their hesitation proved fatal. Lusiel flung the force towards them rapidly, gripping one man and flinging him solidly against a far wall, listening to the gratifying sound of breaking bones that resulted. The second soldier followed his compatriot, gasping out his final breaths against the wall where Lusiel kept him pinned.

Quinn stepped in close behind her as they continued walking calmly towards the entrance of the general's room.

"General! Our standing army outside is being wiped out. Someone or something is on its way here." One fellow said, his bald head nodding emphatically.

"My technicians almost have the force field reset, but we're still a sitting duck." That came from a rather round looking officer, actually. Lusiel wondered what kind of army life provided leisure enough a soldier could become so fat.

"There have been several assassinations of House Thull officials who's security systems were downed by the generator explosion. In my opinion, House Ulgo is behind all of this." Baldie asserted. Lusiel frowned, darkly. Kendo was overstepping himself, she thought. A matter for another time, however.

Lusiel stepped into the room, announcing, "Your opinion is about to change. I'm here for information on Jaesa Willsaam's family."

Surprisingly, it was Fatso who managed to raise a weapon in defense of the general. But Lusiel grabbed the blaster in a force grip, sending it flying into a nearby console. The sound of shattering glass filled the room as the console broke into pieces and sparks flew wildly for several seconds. It was the youngest one of the general's officers who leaped forward then, standing in front of her and gesturing for her to remain behind him. He insisted, "Gesselle, get behind me." Lusiel eyed him, taking in his protective stance. The motion spoke of a familiarity that went past a regular and professional relationship with the general.

But Gesselle refused to cower. "None of you panic. I'll handle this." Gesselle Organa stepped out from behind her defiant lover, facing Lusiel squarely. It spoke well of her, Lusiel thought, impressed. "Sith, did I hear you right? You perpetrated all this, in search of my former handmaiden?"

Lusiel shrugged. "Tell me where her family is, now."

"I admire your single-mindedness," Gesselle Organna responded. "You have decimated my forces outside. They were to be deployed to secure a part of my front that's about to fall. Now I have no reinforcements. But I do have information you're seeking. Perhaps we can help each other."

Lusiel frowned darkly. Gesselle Organna could see the Sith's man, just behind her, shaking his head in a sort of wry sympathy. Gesselle felt a twinge of concern but she squared her shoulders. She refused to be intimidated by such an insane motion on the part of some Imperial monster. The course she described was simple enough, hardly challenging for the brutish creature in front of her who'd dealt her so much damage in one single day. But she underestimated Lusiel's determination to not be coerced into acting according to Organna's whims. Far better, Lusiel thought, to demonstrate the power of the Sith, than to allow herself to be manipulated.

"I'll kill your entourage one by one until you give me what I want." Lusiel asserted.

Gesselle threw her shoulders back, thinking to call Lusiel's bluff. It was terribly foolish of her, Lusiel thought. "Go ahead. I'm not a commander with a soft heart. My actions are always dictated by the bigger picture. Kan'grell, Prinn and Blenks knew the risks of serving a general. It will be a waste of effort to kill them." Lusiel idly wondered which was which. At least she didn't have to continue calling them Baldie and Fatso. "Even if you kill my flea of a servant, you'll get nothing from me unless you agree to defend my front from the Ulgo advance," Gesselle declared.

"I will not back down," Lusiel responded. She gestured towards the young lover who'd so proudly protected Gesselle. The man began gasping for breath as his hands rose up in a mindless and desperate effort to scratch at his throat. He choked desperately.

Gesselle refused to look towards her man gasping out his last breaths at first. "This isn't working, Sith … I'm not so easily … so easily ... broken …" But she did break, just around the time the gasping man fell to his knees. Gesselle ran to him, begging. "Stop! Stop, please! I'll tell you anything, just stop hurting him! Don't kill him!"

Lusiel only sneered down at the woman. "Tell me what I want to know."

Gesselle almost shouted the information. "Jaesa Willsaam's parents are servants in House Organna! They're stationed in the central tower! Here, this is a pass key that will give you access into their chamber just … please stop choking Blenks!"

"Of course." Lusiel dropped her hand, releasing Blenks, who tumbled to the floor. "He'll live, Gesselle. But not you. I don't tolerate those who think to manipulate me." Gesselle gasped angrily, began to spit out a proud declaration, "I should've known," but Lusiel was already moving. The red glow of her lightsaber sang out a bitter melody against the general and her officers, cutting off Gesselle's angry tirade. She moaned one final time, listened to her officers screaming out as they, too, were cut down, and fell over onto the floor. She listened to the sound of the Sith moving to leave, her boots making a solid treading motion against the floor as she went. The dark-haired man followed her, his footsteps echoing, as well. Then it was quiet, except for Blenks' harsh breaths as he fought to recover himself.

Gesselle's final moments were spent listening to her lover screaming in grieving agony as she breathed painful last breaths through blood-spattered lips there on the floor.

* * *

Lusiel halted her STAP speeder against the cliffside road overlooking the Imperial transport, below. She breathed in steadily, her head tossed back, taking in the movement of the clouds up above, the sound of the wind moving through the trees, the warbling of the flying beasts down below. It required several moments for her to settle herself once more.

She looked over at Quinn, perched silently on his own STAP, making motions on the datapad he'd pulled from his pack. She wasn't a fool, Lusiel thought. Eventually there would be those who would discern the growing affection she felt for her captain. It was imperative she never be in the same situation as the foolish General Gesselle Organna.

Lusiel's mind swarmed with possibilities, plans and strategies, concerns over directions threats would come at her from, most likely scenarios, and, of course, how best to mitigate them. Were she to be remain close to Quinn at all times, her saber would be defense enough, she supposed. But her constant presence was unlikely. Quinn was a military man and would be called to serve the Empire in the incredible capacity he was capable of.

No. Lusiel needed to find some way to be close to Quinn even when she wasn't.


	42. Chapter 42

Lusiel watched as yet another Organna guard slid steadily down into death at her feet. The level of security around the tower where Jaesa's parents lived and worked was particularly intense. Quite skilled, too. Each soldier she'd faced getting onto the tower fought hard and well. It had proved a real challenge getting inside.

Quinn looked down at the dead soldier. "It seems someone at General Organna's headquarters was able to transmit a message warning of our arrival, my lord."

She nodded. "Blenks wasn't completely useless after all, hmm?"

"Indeed. I am sure General Gesselle would have been quite proud of his tenacity."

Another group of guards suddenly barreled at them from out of a nearby room, and Lusiel responded, raising her lightsaber to deflect several blaster shots that would have hit Quinn. She leaped at the guards, moving smoothly through her song, taking on the first soldier and his nearest companion with a steady synchronized motion.

A blaster pistol sounded from behind her, though, and Lusiel looked to see Quinn engaging the third soldier. She fiercely pushed the soldier, the force moving in a hard rush at him so that he hit a nearby wall with crushing damage, giving only one brief shout before he died. The soldier she was fighting, however, took the opportunity Lusiel left him and swung a vibroblade at her exposed middle, desperately. Lusiel leapt back but not in enough time to prevent a bloody stripe left behind on her hip. She loosed a small gasp at the sensation.

Then she gathered her rage and jumped at the two remaining guards, landing her booted heels against the first fellow's face and then swinging her fist at the second soldier, striking him hard across the side of the head. Both men swayed, stunned. It was enough. Lusiel's blade sang loudly of her anger. One received its bite in his belly and the other lost his head.

"Let me see to your injury, my lord." Quinn peeled back the material at Lusiel's hip, to better see how deep the cut went.

She chuckled down at his bent head. "If only I could take off my pants right here, Quinn."

"It would certainly help me get at the wound. But I will endeavor to repair the damage the best I am able, my lord." Quinn glanced up at her, briefly. "While I know you'd prefer otherwise, I'll finish quickly."

"Alas…" Lusiel sighed dramatically.

* * *

A guard rushed at her as she entered the room, his eyes wide but determined, as he moved to defend the small group standing towards the rear of the space. Lusiel swiped her lightsaber in one easy motion, killing him quickly, before stepping over his torn body and advancing towards her target.

"Men, rally around me! The fight is upon us!" A blonde-haired Jedi rushed to stand in front of the two pitiful creatures Lusiel was focused on killing. His eyes were fiery, passionate. Lusiel considered him carefully, seeing beyond the façade he presented, how close he was to falling into the darkness he swore to oppose.

Yet another sign of the weakness the Jedi created when denying their passions, she thought.

"I didn't think a single assailant could make it through all of Castle Organna's defenses to reach us," Jaesa's father gasped. His slight figure huddled next to that of his wife.

"The Organna guards are well trained. It was quite a challenge." Lusiel assured him.

"It will feel like child's play compared to facing me, Sith. You will not harm Parvin and Gregor Willsaam. I vow it." The young Jedi foolishly declared.

Lusiel shook her head at him. "I disavow it."

But Gregor Willsaam begged. Not for his life, not then. He swore he only wanted to know why she had sought them out, why so many had died in order for her to reach them. Lusiel saw no need to deny the people answers before they died. What she needed, rather, was Jaesa pushed to the brink, challenged utterly, enough she'd seek Lusiel out once and for all. If Lusiel was able to reach the girl, she'd have her, and not even Baras would be able to deny her such a prize for an apprentice. It would keep Baras stymied, incapable of utilizing Jaesa's skills without Lusiel's control. It only took such careful maneuvering, Lusiel thought.

Parvin Willsaam insisted, "Gregor, this has something to do with Jaesa, I just know it."

Lusiel smiled. "Give her a prize. It's obvious where Jaesa gets her force sensitivity from, hmmm?"

"I knew she shouldn't have gone with the Jedi. Now the Empire is hunting her." Parvin looked near tears. "Sith, Jaesa was our life! She was going to marry nobility and we wouldn't have to be servants any longer."

Gregor nodded. "But then she left and we sacrificed that dream. We have no idea where she is now. The Jedi told us we probably wouldn't see her ever again. We're mere servants. What could you want with us?" Lusiel almost snorted at them. They'd regarded Jaesa much as the Jedi did, as Baras did, as a thing to be used and manipulated.

"You will be my message to Jaesa." Lusiel gestured.

"You want us to give her a message for you?" Gregor looked confusedly at her.

Parvin frowned at her husband. "No, Gregor. She means our deaths will be a message to Jaesa."

That's when Gregor begged for their lives. "Please, Sith. Is there any way to inspire you to spare us?"

Lusiel pretended thoughtfulness for a moment. Then she shook her head. "Nothing springs to mind, no."

She moved quickly, pushing the force at the Jedi, not even watching as his body flew back into a nearby column. Like a whipping fire, Lusiel flung up her hands, watched as the bodies of Parvin and Gregor Willsaam rose slightly into the air. She clenched her hands into fists, then, listening to the break of the gentle people's necks, the cracks resounding loudly through the room.

The Jedi rose to his feet, stumbling over to stand next to the bodies of the Willsaam couple, his gaze horrified. He mumbled, "You killed them so fast. I've never seen anything like it. I didn't even have time to stop you. I failed. It was my confidence, it made me lax. I will remedy my failure by bringing you to justice."

Lusiel laughed at him. "You'll fail in this as well, Jedi. You lack the conviction to truly destroy me. It takes real passion, true anger. You're incapable of real power like that."

"I'll show you different, Sith!" He screamed at her, rushing towards her in a flurry, the blue of his lightsaber singing its desperate song.

Quinn jumped easily out of the path of the oncoming Jedi, making way for Lusiel to face him. He concentrated, rather, on the soldiers running up behind the Jedi to shoot blasters at the Sith. He shot the first soldier in the face, watched her fall dead into a bloody heap. The second soldier turned his rifle to face off against Quinn himself, rather, but the Imperial was already shooting, the bolt catching the poor sap in the line of flesh right where his thigh met his stomach. His screams followed him to the floor. Quinn put the man out of his misery with one fine shot to the forehead. He looked back to see how Lusiel fared.

Lusiel was dancing constantly out of the Jedi's reach. Every swing of his lightsaber arched by her, none actually struck her. But Lusiel's blows struck again and again, stinging against the Jedi's legs and arms, catching him on his backside, his shoulder. The Jedi sported an increasing array of stripes and injuries but not one was life-threatening. She was playing with the fellow, taunting his weakness, his incapability. He screamed out at her, maddened, "I'll kill you with my bare hands!" But Lusiel only laughed.

The Jedi threw his head back, shouting a wild cry, then reached his hands out towards the Sith warrior. The force caught her, smothered her darkly, sweeping around her to hold her in place. He shook her and her head shot back and forth. Lusiel choked, trying to say something, felt the inky blackness of the force hold moving around her neck, holding her. She couldn't move, she couldn't call out, she couldn't stop him. He gripped the front of her robe, pulled her towards him, punched her in the face.

Everything froze. It stopped. Lusiel saw another room, another place. There was a man there, he was bigger than her, his head was covered in a mop of gray hair, his eyes were wrinkled, old. They glittered with intent, he was grunting as he moved her limbs, pinched her flesh, pulled and twisted her tiny nipples, gripped her thighs hard and yanked them apart. She couldn't move and she wanted her father there but he wasn't there and he couldn't come because mother had killed him.

She was all alone and it wasn't fair! He'd pay! He'd pay for everything, for all of it; he'd pay for touching her, he'd pay for the sound her father's skull made when mother hit him, he'd pay for holding her like this! She'd make him pay!

Everything went red, hazy, and suddenly Lusiel was moving again. She glowed vividly with dark red light, it shone from her skin, exploded from her eyes. Quinn gasped, awed. The Jedi was flung across the room but Lusiel leapt after him. She flung his body up into the air and then down, crushingly hard, into the ground. Again, up and down. And again. After the third blow, the Jedi stopped shouting, stopped whimpering. Quinn was fairly sure the man was dead. But Lusiel continued glowing and continued moving. She jumped onto the Jedi's body, force leaping in place, up and down, wild, enraged. Eerily, she made no noise, so all Quinn could hear was the sound of her boots as they met the flesh of the Jedi's body over and over and over again.

Finally, Lusiel slowed and stopped in place. The red glow faded, receeded back into the Sith. She panted, gasped. She looked around, dazed, confused. She was absolutely covered, from head to toe, in inky dark red blood. It saturated her hair, dripped from her jaw, soaked her robe and trickled down her armor. She looked over at Quinn, and whimpered, "Quinn."

And then her eyes glazed, went dead. Quinn wanted to shout against it, hated the way everything that was so vibrantly Lusiel just … went away. He grabbed her arms, called her, "My lord! My lord! Lusiel!" But she only hung there in his grip. She was completely inert and withdrawn, and Quinn, horrified, realized how incredibly vulnerable she was. In such a state, anyone, anybody could destroy her. If it were anyone else but him…? He shuddered.

Baras would probably kill her right then and there, Quinn thought. And his mind snapped back into motion. It was Quinn's duty to protect Lusiel, from everyone. He refused to consider the reasons why, he just moved steadily into action. Doors into rooms he'd never ventured in his mental house began opening, and he rushed through them fluidly.

Within moments Quinn had flung a series of cloaks over both himself and Lusiel, gathered from the gear the Jedi had left behind against the back wall of the room. Satisfied they gave the appearance of Jedi, he guided Lusiel out of the place, moving as fast as he could. He kept Lusiel's hand tucked into his own every step of the way, whispering to her, calling for her to wake up, come back. He never stopped for a moment, bypassed every wildly running squad that hurried past them towards the tower. Within minutes, Quinn walked through the gates, Lusiel's hand clenched desperately in his own. He didn't stop.


	43. Chapter 43

Quinn forced everyone out of the medical clinic the Panteers had carefully cut into one of the side rooms of the cave where they housed their headquarters. Luckily, there was no one actively using it when he'd rushed up to the entrance dragging a still silent Lusiel. He'd insisted only that his lord was wounded and needed immediate care that only he could provide.

So the Panteers shuffled them into the clinic and then hurried back out again when Quinn demanded they leave. One of the Imperial officers stationed there with the Empire's representatives tried protesting. But when he reached for the hood that still obscured Lusiel's head, Quinn pulled out his blaster and promised him, "I'll kill you if you lay one finger on her." The man gulped hard, staring down the end of the blaster. Then he turned and fled, following the Panteers who'd been far smarter than he was.

Quinn was acting on pure instinct. And everything in him said no one could be allowed to know how vulnerable Lusiel truly was right then. No one.

He turned to Lusiel once the room was quiet and they were alone again. He brushed the hood back so that he could look at her again. He ached at the stifled, muted appearance of her eyes. "My lord, please … just come back." Then he tried wiping at some of the blood that had dried on her face. "I need to get you cleaned up."

Quinn began removing Lusiel's clothes, pulling at her robes and armor until she finally stood silent and insensible in the center of the room, completely bare. He sighed as he guided her towards the bathing chamber nearby. He turned on the water, checked the temperature. Then he began pulling at his own clothes. He guided both of them under the spray once he was naked. He wiped at Lusiel's face, swept his hands down, across her neck and shoulders, her arms, up and down. The blood ran in vicious rivulets down Lusiel's torso, her belly, pooling under their feet before drifting down the drain.

All the while, Quinn whispered and chanted, calling to Lusiel. "My lord, please wake up. Just look at me, I'm right here. It's me, it's Quinn. Just wake up." He smiled at her. "My lord, I'm standing here naked and you're not looking. What's wrong with you, hmmm?"

But Lusiel only stared sightlessly at the wall of the bathing stall. Quinn wanted to hit somebody, but he wasn't sure who. He'd hit the Jedi, he supposed. But that idiot had been hit plenty of times, Quinn thought, remembering the bloody wreck of the Jedi's remains there on the floor.

Quinn only hated feeling useless, so he continued washing Lusiel. He shampooed her hair, smoothed her skin with a cloth until every speck of blood was gone. Finally, he just held her, wiping the water away from her face as it ran into her eyes. "My lord … Lusiel! Lusiel, wake up! Look at me, dammit!"

And she blinked. Lusiel blinked and turned her head to look at Quinn. He groaned a steady sound of approval when she finally looked into his eyes, breathed her name, "Lusiel." Then she gasped, clutched at Quinn's shoulders, and laid her forehead against the center of his chest. Her shoulders shook as she gasped and wheezed. "You're hyperventilating, my lord." Quinn tried to pull her back but she only shook her head and held onto him. She was muttering but it was muffled against his skin.

"What, my lord?" Quinn lowered his head, listening, but Lusiel looked up and into his eyes, held his gaze firmly. Her eyes shined with worry, fear. And she never loosened her hold of him, pressed herself firmly against the length of his body, rather.

"Quinn, swear. Swear to me you'll never let them hold me like that. Swear to me you'll stop them from holding me so that I can't move or fight them. Quinn … it frightens me." Lusiel gasped, her tone low and strained. And Quinn stopped. He felt the doors of his mind shutting firmly, until the only one left standing open shined into the mental space he'd long since devoted to Lusiel, the space he'd accepted as his favorite some time ago.

He loved her. It was real. He knew it right then.

A Sith did not, ever, describe their fears. Not to anyone. The words, "I'm afraid," were virtually anathema in the world of the Sith. To admit to a fear was to describe a dreadful vulnerability, exposing the Sith who did so to enormouse threat. Quinn had never heard any Sith tell him they were afraid of anything. That Lusiel did so, now, was to admit how greatly she trusted him, how thoroughly she depended on him. It was a tremendous gesture and he accepted it for what it was, even without the words.

So Quinn offered the woman he loved exactly what she needed right then. He held her face in his hands and whispered against her lips the assurance she begged him for. He said, "I promise you, Lusiel. I will never let that happen to you. Never." Lusiel shuddered against him, laid her head against his chest, and shook. Quinn just held her, as Lusiel continued shaking and fingering the pearl pendant that hung around his neck.

"Thank you." Lusiel finally said. She hesitated. "Did anyone see?"

"No. I didn't allow it. We should get dried off, so I can attend your injuries." Quinn began to ease her apart from him. But Lusiel shook her head, still shaking.

"I need you, Quinn."

"My lord?"

Lusiel raised her head, felt her body shaking. She looked at Quinn, looked at him, his eyes glittering back at her. "I need you to _touch_ me. I need so desperately for you to touch me."

Quinn was startled but realized immediately he shouldn't have been. Sith depended on powerful emotions to fuel their power and abilities. Lusiel's trauma was profound, her need for passion equally powerful. She was looking to replace one feeling with another. It was surely why she continued shaking as badly as she did.

And, just like before, Quinn realized he couldn't deny her what she needed from him.

He eased his hands down her shoulders and across her back, down to her sides, where he grasped her waist. He didn't say anything, didn't give her any words of comfort, even. He just eased himself down, going to his knees, looking up at her while his eyes darkened to match the dragon pearl glittering against his chest. Lusiel whimpered, watching him.

Quinn pressed his lips against the flat of her belly, rubbed his jaw against the soft flesh there, back and forth. He ran his hands down Lusiel's legs, reached her ankles and then wrapped his fingers around the inner flesh of her calves before starting to move his hands higher again. He smoothed Lusiel's legs apart, easing her open for him. He watched the petals of her sex be revealed, right in front of his darkening gaze, saw the sweet glistening nub of her clitoris twitch.

Above his head, Lusiel whispered, "Yes. Like that. Touch me there."

Quinn nudge her clit with his nose, breathed against it, blew a soft bit of air at her. She jerked, sighed. He rested one of his hands at the back of her knee, edging her leg up and apart, placing her knee against his shoulder and spreading her wide open to his touch. Then he looked back up at her from his kneeling vantage point, staring into her eyes, seeing how the chocolate of her gaze shined down at him, desiring, hot. His tongue darted out, swiftly, patted against her clit. Again. Lusiel twitched, pressing her hips forward and closer to his mouth, appealing without saying a word.

Quinn began to lap at her, his tongue moving in darting, twisting circles against her sweet female flesh. Lusiel threw her head back against the wall of the bathing stall, shaking it back and forth, as her hips continued to dance against Quinn's face, her knee quivering where it rested on his shoulder. He moaned softly into her sex, and Lusiel felt the vibrations against her core, cried out wordlessly. He raised his fingers to her opening and eased one inside, moving it back and forth in her, pulling softly against her inner walls and feeling the tight grip those honeyed muscles inside of her provided him. He moaned again and Lusiel almost screamed, "Yes! Don't stop, please! Malavai! Don't stop!"

Quinn thrilled when he heard his name, pulled her clit into his mouth and started sucking, thrusting his fingers into her core, moving in a steady rhythmic motion, until he felt it begin. Lusiel began quivering, shaking. Her sweet inside tightened and pulled against his fingers. Her clit swelled and then pulsed under his tongue. He groaned as she shuddered wildly against him, softly holding her flesh in his mouth and easing his tongue in soft swipes across the little bud there.

She gradually softened against him, sated, silky. Quinn slowly released her clit from the hold his mouth had on it, rubbed it gently with his nose again, kissed it. Then he eased her leg off his shoulder and climbed steadily to his feet. Lusiel looked at him, reached out to touch him. But Quinn backed away, shaking his head.

"No. This time isn't for me, can't be for me. Our first time will be perfect and right. Not when you're hurt and injured like this." Quinn cupped her chin in his hand, smoothed his thumb across her lips. Lusiel nodded, stilled.

Quinn turned off the water that still showered down onto them, moving her from the stall and wrapping a drying cloth around her. He rubbed her until she was completely dry and then pulled her into the adjoining room. Lusiel stayed quiet, watching him as he dressed himself and then rummaged in her pack for a change of clothes for her. He tended her small injuries, the cut on her hip and the bruise on her face, before dressing her and administering her a sedative.

"Rest, my lord."

"Quinn?"

"Yes?"

"I killed him didn't I?"

"Yes."

"Good."

* * *

**This was a real tough chapter for me to put together. Not the least of which because I'd decided a long time ago I was going to include the first real sexual contact they shared together during this scene, although I knew it wouldn't be the full enchilada, either. Everything else beforehand was a tease, basically. But the real struggle here was to convey the emotional commitments they were each making without making the story ending up sounding like a sap fest. I'm hoping I succeeded. My fingers are crossed, big time.**


	44. Chapter 44

Vette knew something had happened. It was Quinn, of course. He responded to her holocall with nothing like his usual rigidly stiff propriety, didn't ask about the persistent Broysc nonsense, didn't even point at her and insist she keep Toovee's chef hat out of sight. Instead, he spoke brusquely, as if he was preoccupied with something. Then he said Lord Lusiel was "still sleeping", when Vette knew very well Lusiel never slept past the seventh hour.

"Was she injured? What's going on? What's wrong, Quinn?" Vette began jabbering madly at the captain.

Quinn sighed. "Vette, she isn't in a kolto tank, she's sleeping. Please calm down. What is it you needed?"

"Oh, yea. Darth Baras called and insisted that I patch through a holotransmission. He seemed unhappy about something, although it's always hard to tell through that metal face of his."

"Do not disrespect Darth Baras, Vette."

"I didn't, geez! I was polite! Didn't even call him Toovee when I wanted to. I swear! Not, mind you, that he would've known what I was talking about if I had." Vette nodded her head emphatically.

"He assuredly could tell how you felt, Vette. Be careful!" Quinn pointed at her and she felt better at the normalcy of Quinn's gesture.

"Do I patch uber-scary robot-Darth through, or not, Quinn? I'm sure I can come up with several reasonable excuses to keep him occupied for a time, if need be." Vette rolled her eyes.

Quinn nodded. "We need a few minutes. Stall him. But remain respectful!"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I can play idiot-slave for a little bit. No worries."

* * *

Lusiel stood in front of the holoterminal, her arms crossed over her chest and chin held up. She could feel Darth Baras glaring at her from his holographic image looming overhead.

"That Twi-lek slave of yours indicated you were injured. Combined with the news I've heard regarding your search for Jaesa Willsaam's family, I am greatly concerned."

Lusiel frowned. "There were Jedi protecting the Willsaam girl's parents. I had to destroy them to reach the Willsaams. What have you been told, master?"

"Then they are dead? It seems I've been misinformed. How vexing." Lusiel sensed another wave of angry discontent coming from Darth Baras. She tensed. "At least the padawan is no doubt twisting with grief as we speak. You have more than impressed me with your skills and dedication, apprentice."

"Are you going to tell me what that maggot said, or not?" Lusiel leaned forward, intent.

"Duke Kendo contacted me to tell me you've been busy attending to to personal exploits and disregarding my mission. He said you had set off an explosive charge that killed several Thul dignitaries and then allowed the Organna general to live! Is this true?" Baras pointed at her.

Lusiel eased her mental shields, baring her anger in a brief flare of emotion. She watched as Baras settled back, soothed by the obvious evidence of her irritation. In fact, Lusiel was pleased Kendo had so far overreached as to lie to Baras himself. She'd intended to confront Kendo's assassination of his fellows, to use it as justification for her to kill him. It was precisely why she hadn't stopped him from carrying out the attack. Now, that defense was no longer required. Baras would surely approve her killing the fool. Rather than his forgiveness, she'd have Baras' permission. How sweetly perfect.

"That is a lie. The general is dead. And no explosive of mine killed any Thuls." Lusiel spoke emphatically. Baras glanced at Quinn, standing silently behind Lusiel. Both of them emanated strong emotions, annoyance for sure … but there was something else, Baras thought. Still, he focused on the matter at hand. Baras despised those who thought to deceive him. He depended so thoroughly on his spies and minions giving him reliable information, that anyone giving him blatant falsehoods simply could not be tolerated. An unreliable source of information needed to be eradicated.

"I see. It seems Duke Kendo has exhausted his usefulness to me. I expect you won't be long taking care of the situation, apprentice. We have other, more important business to attend to, after all." He nodded at Lusiel, firmly.

"Of course, my lord."

* * *

Lusiel was enjoying watching Kendo squirm. She considered admitting to him there was no dissembling he might do that would save him, not after she'd so carefully planned his destruction. His reaction would surely be amusing, she thought.

But Lusiel was truly intent on getting off Alderaan. She wanted more than ever to surround herself with the familiar quiet of her own space, where she could meditate and regain her shattered equilibrium. She soothed herself by reaching out to feel Quinn's steady presence behind her, balming. That he was equally satisfied by Kendo's impending doom pleased Lusiel immensely.

Lusiel cut the duke off in mid-sentence, as he babbled some politic nonsense about how awkward a position he was in. "I'm not interested in listening to you make excuses, Kendo. You told Baras I murdered your rivals and that I was a traitor!"

"Oh, uh … please … let me explain. I realized when you blew up the generator several of my rivals were exposed. So I seized the opportunity and killed them. I … had company when I was speaking to your master and I had to keep my fellow house members blind to my maneuvering." Duke Kendo stammered.

Fimress interrupted. "That is a lie. You contacted Baras yourself, alone."

Lusiel glared at the duke. "Lying to me was your last mistake, Kendo."

Duke Kendo held up his hands, defensive. He begged, "Wait, wait! I knew you would succeed, it was harmless. Please, please don't kill me." He glanced at his Sith guards. "Fimress, you and your men are assigned to me. If I'm attacked, you are supposed to defend."

Fimress smirked. "If Darth Baras' apprentice decides you die, we will not intercede." The Sith inclined his head towards Lusiel, as did his fellow Sith lining the walls of the duke's office.

"Of course Kendo is going to die. You can count on it." Lusiel shrugged.

Fimress sighed gratefully. "It will be a pleasure to be relieved from this assignment. Can we help at all?"

Lusiel frowned at him. "I don't need any _help_."

Duke Kendo began sputtering, then. Lusiel could feel Quinn's sense of amusement at the man's frantic gibbering. She almost offered him the chance to shoot the duke. But the presence of the Sith required her own lightsaber do the work. Kendo began crying, "No, no … you were supposed to protect me!" Lusiel's saber lashed out against the fool's face, cutting off anymore nattering noise he tried making. Kendo collapsed into a pitiful heap.

"He was a sad, twisted waste of flesh," Fimress declared, rubbing his forehead. "It was torture serving him."

"I can imagine." Lusiel shrugged at him.

"We report back to our master on the Council now." Fimress eyed Lusiel firmly. "We will be watching your exploits carefully. Friend." Lusiel only nodded.


	45. Chapter 45

Quinn knew when Lusiel came to stand in the doorway of the bridge, behind him. He continued working, tapping at the screens in front of him. The ship responded to the sure hand his piloting always was, hurtling towards the Imperial Fleet as he directed. Lusiel came to stand next to him, watching the stars fly by the windows in front of them.

He looked over at her, saw she was garbed in her favorite tunic and pant set. He suspected she'd meditated in her quarters, where she'd retreated some hours earlier, despite Vette's insistence she eat something first. Quinn asked, "Are you hungry, my lord?"

Lusiel nodded. "Will you join me?"

"Will it help you finish eating an entire meal, my lord?"

Lusiel chuckled. "Of course I'll say yes, Quinn."

Quinn shook his head as he followed Lusiel from the bridge. The ship was silent. Vette had gone to bed some hours ago and Toovee was propped against one of the lounge sofas, where Quinn had left him when he shut down the droid's operating system. They were alone.

He settled Lusiel into a chair at the mess table, retrieving a plate of the stew Toovee had prepared for dinner, along with a biscuit she could use to mop up the gravy. Quinn pulled out a datapad as Lusiel proceeded to eat, knowing that she'd be comforted by his presence far more than any conversation. She ate steadily, as he knew she would with him there, sitting back in her chair once her plate was wiped clean with the last of her biscuit.

"Do you need more, my lord?"

Lusiel shook her head, feeling replete. Quinn nodded, moving to get two cold drinks before settling back down at the table again. He regarded Lusiel as she took a sip from the glass. Finally, he nodded.

"Tell me."

Lusiel glanced down at her glass, eyeing the swirling liquid inside. Then she shrugged, pretending indifference, knowing Quinn would see through it.

"He was one of my testers. An older Sith. I remember his gray hair and wrinkled eyes, the way he looked at me."

"Tester?"

"The Sith have to understand the strength and capabilities of new initiates. So they test us intensely during those first days. Most of the tests are simple enough, picking things up, tossing them around. Nothing challenging, really."

"So he was just testing you?"

"Not exactly. He was a tester but that wasn't a test. He'd pulled me into a private room, away from the others and the other testers. I found out later I wasn't the first girl he'd touched. I wasn't even the first one who tried to fight him off. I was only the first girl who managed to succeed."

Quinn frowned. He clenched his fists against the table, glaring down at the surface. Lusiel ran her fingers along his knuckles, reminded him, "It was a long time ago."

"I know. It truly doesn't help to know that, however."

"I killed him." Lusiel asserted. "That's when it became a test, of course."

Quinn was confused. "I don't understand."

"Quinn, he was an older, more experienced Sith, supposedly far stronger than any mere stripling of a girl. That I was able to destroy him was regarded as exceptional. I received far more attention than many other initiates did."

"So your ability was utilized."

"No. My teacher was insistent that I not use it, in fact. You've seen what happens to me when I do, anyway. I'm incapacitated for too long a time and emotionally compromised even longer. He said it was too dangerous, called it a suicide ability."

"What did he mean, suicide ability?"

"Meaning if I was prepared to die and wanted only to take my opponent to Hell with me, then I should use it."

Quinn shook his head. "That is _not_ an option, then."

Lusiel nodded in agreement. He looked at her intently. "Did he rape you, Lusiel?"

"I killed him before he could finish it. I just ended up bruised and bitten. It was more that he scared me. That was what made me so angry."

Quinn sighed, relieved. And proud. She was a Sith who'd managed such tremendous strength at so early an age as to destroy a more experienced Sith through the force alone. She truly was exceptional. He looked at her again.

"I meant what I said, my lord. I will not allow you to be scared like that. Not ever again."

"I know. I'm counting on it."


	46. Chapter 46

Tivva didn't bounce as much as her sister did, which was particularly obvious with Vette bouncing there in front of her. She was just as blue as Vette, however. Lusiel could also see they shared a certain shape to their eyes. The brow, perhaps.

But Tivva seemed so much a shattered figure. It was like life had steadily battered at the Twi'lek, until she finally gave up the fight. Lusiel was leery of even smiling at her, as she seemed to trust only that she'd be maltreated. It took several moments to even convince Tivva of who Vette really was, in fact.

Lusiel pondered. "Maybe we got the wrong Tivva. Is it a common name?"

"Not that I know of. Never heard of anyone called 'Tivva, Tivva, gonna squeeze ya'," Vette hummed the rhyme.

Tivva gasped, stepping back as if in shock. She reached out towards Vette, mumbling an unfamiliar name. "Ce'na?"

Lusiel dramatically jumped out of the way as Vette jumped at her sister, squeals of delight bursting out in earsplitting cadence. The two Twi'lek women spun around in clinging circles, tearful joy obvious. Lusiel cocked her head, watching, judging to see how likely it was Tivva's brief costume would withstand the wild encounter. It eventually became evident Tivva's outfit, while diminutive and … stringy, was also designed for intense movement. It stayed in place, anyway. And Tivva turned to regard Lusiel, still standing there, her eyes shuttered and cautious.

"This is my friend, Tivva. She's obviously Sith but don't let that fool you." Vette leaned forward, whispering dramatically. "She's a puppy dog."

"Am not! Ask that last fellow on Alderaan. I bet _he_ wouldn't call me a puppy dog."

Vette waved her hand dismissively. "Doesn't count. He wouldn't call anyone anything, cause you killed him!"

"Precisely!" Lusiel sighed with melodramatic flair.

Tivva stared at them, flummoxed. Lusiel finally bowed her head respectfully to the woman, intoning with extraordinary politeness, "Charmed. Any family of Vette's is a friend to me."

"Vette? Is that what you're called now? Sounds like a gangster from the tech center." Tivva looked at her sister.

"Old days. I've long since moved past that." Vette glanced around at the pleasure barge, the various patrons singing and otherwise carousing madly. "So I'm guessing this wasn't a voluntary … career move for you, Tivva."

Tivva dropped her head, ashamed. "Been working here two years. It's killing me. I kept thinking I'd get sold again but … I'm just too old now. Ce'na, I need your help."

Vette shuddered, staring down at the floor. She finally turned to Lusiel, imploring. "So, uh. Wow. Big favor. Can you buy my sister's freedom?"

Lusiel mumbled something low, something that sounded like, "So who's the puppy dog now?" But she smiled at Tivva, before calling for the place's matron, a woman named Crystal. Another squealing dance of pure joy ensued between the Twi'leks, although Tivva appeared utterly stunned throughout.

Lusiel watched them begin making celebratory toasts up against one of the betting tables, waving aside Vette's concern as she stood to leave. "Enjoy your reunion, Vette. The ship will leave tomorrow morning, of course." Vette watched her go, her armor and weapon causing just about everyone to gasp and hurry out of her path as she went. Then Tivva gripped her arm, singing against her side, and Vette turned back to the fun at the table.

* * *

The air on Nar Shaddaa retained its typical putrid nature. Lusiel absently wondered how many Hutts firing their flatulent waste were required in order to produce the stuffy atmosphere so prevalent on the planet. The mathematical conjecture might occupy Quinn for a while, she thought.

Although granting Quinn leave to attend to the rescue of an old officer friend of his in Broysc's fleet, a fellow called Ovech, had worked this time around. Lusiel did find it troubling that an Imperial Moff would abandon any officer under his command to ignoble destruction at the hands of the enemy. Going even further, actually using Imperial troops to stifle the successful efforts on the part of this Major Ovech to emerge from the confrontation alive, only strengthened Lusiel's overarching disgust of the Moff.

And this after listening to several of the messages he had sent to her own ship.

Lusiel snorted and sipped from her glass, looking up only when the cloaked figure approached and slid into the cantina booth next to her. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd actually show," Lusiel said.

Tremel barked a brief laugh. "If I'd been on time, we would've been left wondering who was following me."

Lusiel nodded. She was garbed in standard Nar Shaddaa dress, a particularly ugly midriff-baring mess of an outfit colored lavender of all things. Her gear was stashed carefully in the room she'd rented at a nearby hotel, secured by Toovee, who was likely as bugged as her armor and weapon surely was. Tremel eyed her carefully.

"You don't appear Sith. Well done."

"Thank you. This appearance is galling and quite out of character. I'll request guidance on proper disguise from my brother the next time I see him." Lusiel smirked.

"He would certainly be capable of providing it," Tremel shrugged. Then his gaze hardened. "Your note mentioned an incident on Alderaan."

Lusiel glanced down, took another sip. "I lost control again."

"You survived. How?"

"My captain saved me."

Tremel leaned forward, intent. "Tell me about him."

* * *

Lusiel found Quinn in the med bay. He was pulling items out from various cabinets and recording an accurate count of all the contents onto the datapad he was holding. She watched him for several seconds, thinking over Tremel's incredible plan.

It was impossible, she thought. Quinn wasn't force sensitive. Even trying such a thing might kill him. She'd argued at length with her old teacher but he'd remained adamant it was the only possible solution to the dilemma the captain represented Lusiel.

"You're a fool if you don't realize how deeply compromised by Darth Baras the Imperial surely is. You've said he served Baras for years, after all. Years in which Baras has slowly sunk his teeth into him. It's the only way!"

Tremel deplored the emotional refusal Lusiel felt about the course. He'd actually called her "overly female". It didn't change anything, however, as Lusiel had pointed out. Quite logically, in fact. Nothing was going to change the fact she _was_ female, after all.

Tremel had looked at her, and said with brutal clarity, "A Sith who loves is vulnerable. You either eradicate the weakness. Or you make it stronger."

Now, Lusiel sighed. She consigned the proposed motion to that region of her consideration called "things to try after I figure out how to do it without killing him". Then Quinn looked over at her from there across the bay. His eyes brightened.

"My lord, I'm pleased to report that Major Ovech and most of his officers were saved. I was able to infiltrate the major's ship and seize control of its operating systems. I identified where his men were being held, freed them, and locked MOff Broysc's occupying forces on the bridge. Ovech's men promptly rescued him."

Lusiel smiled. "It's at times like this I'm grateful you're on our side, Quinn. Amazing job."

"The Empire is stronger with Major Ovech. It would have been a shame if he was squandered. Thank you for the opportunity, my lord. I'll return to my duties." Quinn looked at the materials scattered around the floor of the med bay, critically. Then he swung his gaze back towards Lusiel again, suddenly serious. "Have you been eating, my lord?"

Lusiel laughed.


	47. Chapter 47

Quinn noted a lull in the recordings he'd long ago planted among Lusiel's gear. He wanted to ask her about the two hours she'd apparently gone missing, wearing not one piece of armor or gear that marked her as Sith. Not that she was ever truly helpless, especially on Nar Shaddaa. A simple force shove could have a robber or thief tumbling thousands of feet to their deaths easily enough, after all. But even the most powerful Sith could be outdone by the simplest attacks.

Besides, what sort of entertainments on Nar Shadda might have required Lusiel set aside her armor and gear? That thought was particularly bothersome, nagging at Quinn's peace of mind even as he went about his duties. It wasn't as if he could come right out and ask her about it, either. He didn't imagine Lusiel would be particularly happy to know he monitored her every movement, anyway. He could explain he acted out of a desire to protect her, of course, because that was largely the truth. But she'd surely realize there was more to it, as well.

Quinn decided he was going to have to perform a medical examination on Lusiel, just to ensure she hadn't been exposed to any negative effects from her journey to Nar Shaddaa. If an examination showed signs of certain activities during the past day or two, as well, it wasn't as if he'd gone looking particularly for that information. Right?

Quinn was trying to determine how to approach Lusiel to describe the tests he needed to conduct on her, when the console in front of him began beeping with an incoming message.

* * *

Baras reveled in the triumph of his goals. His gloating was currently on display via the holoterminal, in fact. Lusiel stood in front of his image in what was, for her, a typically prideful stance. She looked gloriously beautiful, Quinn thought. Her head was canted to the side and her arms crossed over her chest even as Baras wallowed gleefully in his holotransmission in front of her. He eyed her backside as she shifted her stance, apparently listening attentively to her master.

Quinn remembered making her come. Her head had been thrown back against the wall, her voice chanting his name softly. She'd tasted sweet, honeyed. He'd enjoyed putting his mouth on her.

He felt himself harden into a tight erection. And Lusiel stiffened, standing straight in front of the holoterminal. She didn't even look at him and he knew she was aware of his intense desire. He sighed. Most women had to actually watch a man lose control and become hard. Not the one _he_ adored, though.

Quinn shifted, slightly, settling himself more comfortably in his pants, as he considered his good fortune. And he smiled.

"Every lead followed perfectly. Every planet ravaged. Our adversary is growing ansty, I can feel it. Expect news soon. Baras out."

Quinn finally stepped forward as Baras' image faded and Lusiel turned to face him. She smiled as her gaze skittered quickly down his front. Vette shoved herself off the doorframe she was leaning against, though. Lusiel smirked at Quinn.

"My lord, I thought it prudent not to interrupt Darth Baras. We received a recorded transmission." Quinn pressed several buttons on his datapad and gestured towards the holoterminal. "It's ready for you to view."

Together, the three of them watched as an image of a young girl filled the terminal. Her hair was light brown and her eyes were big and dark. She seemed incredibly innocent, naïve. Unaware and mislead, Lusiel thought.

"Sith, I'm Jaesa Willsaam. My master, Nomen Karr, has no idea I'm sending you this message. Let's be real – we both know this isn't about us." Jaesa's message indicated a girl of some strength and temerity. Lusiel was impressed.

Quinn pondered. "The hunted seeks the hunter."

"Strong enough, then, she refuses to be hunted any further." Lusiel responded.

"Our masters pretend otherwise. But this is personal and the two of us are only pawns in their private war. It's my loved ones caught in the middle. It has to stop." Jaesa continued. "Maybe you're as tired of all this passive-aggressive nonsense as I am. I've included coordinates to a ship where I'll be waiting. Let's discuss this face to face. Let's finish this."

"Wow. She's got guts," breathed Vette.

Lusiel agreed wholeheartedly.


	48. Chapter 48

Knights, two of them. Lusiel glanced at Quinn as she stepped forward to meet the Jedi. Yet again her captain proved his value, having well anticipated the trap Nomen Karr had set for them. She considered tapping him on the shoulder, along with a whooping "well done, Quinn". But if she did that every time Quinn was proved correct he'd be left sore and bruised.

No, Lusiel decided. She'd just celebrate Quinn's worth in private. Even more in private if she could. Maybe she could get him in private tonight. Later, at least. Oh, right after these foolish Jedi were dead. Hey, up against that wall would be nice.

The younger Jedi began talking right then. "Well, well. We'll have to thank Nomen Karr after all. The Sith showed." Lusiel was thrilled the fool was capable of playing her favorite game. It was so long a time since someone was good enough to play along, after all. She tried remembering who that was … On Balmorra, she thought. What was his name? Durmat?

The other one wasn't so much fun. "Stand down, Sith. The padawan you seek isn't here. Nomen Karr discovered her plan and talked her out of it."

"It's not your day. You were expecting one lowly little padawan to crush and, instead, you get us."

Lusiel wasn't able to resist. It was all she could do not to laugh. "Oh, you'll do just fine. I enjoy crushing your kind, too."

"Then we have something in common." The younger one said. Lusiel eyed him, used the force to guage him. He was so angry, almost quivering with it. One little nudge, she imagined, might be just enough.

"I'm Ulldin. This is Zylixx. We are both fully trained Jedi knights, more than your match. You should submit, Sith." The calm one, Ulldin, said.

"Of course, we've yet to encounter a Sith with sense enough to surrender. You all seem bent on having us destroy you." Zylixx dripped with prideful overconfidence. She thought she saw it dropping off onto the floor, in fact.

"Admit it. You'd be disappointed if I gave up." Lusiel shrugged.

Ulldin was adamant, however. "Not at all, we don't go around picking fights."

Lusiel nearly snorted in his face. She did look around her, though. She hadn't come here for a fight, she thought. The word she was given, anyway, was something like "discussion". Oh, and "let's meet".

"I wouldn't trust it if the Sith surrendered. I prefer the sureness of death." Zylixx told Ulldin.

Lusiel lost the game, then. She laughed aloud. "Keep thinking like that and you'll fall to the dark side before you know it."

"Shut your mouth," Zylixx insisted.

Ulldin tried so hard to save him. Wouldn't do him any good, Lusiel almost told him. "Zylixx, remain calm. The Sith is trying to unbalance you. Don't let this get under your skin."

Lusiel gestured towards Quinn unobtrusively, thinking how close the fight was. Not much more and the young fool would be lost. She needed Quinn in the proper position to utilize his newest gadget. "Zylixx knows the truth. I think he wants to fall." She could almost feel Quinn gathering himself, tensing.

"Liar! I'm not weak like you. We simply meet force with force!" Zylixx was almost shouting.

Lusiel took a breath and delivered her final, devastating blow. "You are my brother, we are the same. Attack, and show your true colors."

"I won't be insulted by the likes of you! You die, Sith!" Zylixx flung out his lightsaber, Ulldin's cry asking him to stop utterly ignored.

Quinn jumped to the side, sudden and quick, whipping out a carbonized spray device that effectively stymied Ulldin's attempt towards a defensive attack against Lusiel. Ulldin froze in place, giving out a small squeak of surprise and shock.

But Lusiel was already singing, her red lightsaber glowing its mighty tenor. Almost a soft tune at first, her blade curved up and over her head. But it met Zylixx's blue lightsaber in an arc of scarlet symphony. Her composition remained flawless. Lusiel stepped into her attacker's lightsaber, leaving Zylixx to stumble forward, his momentum suddenly upset. But Lusiel didn't stop. She spun out and around Zylixx, sending her lightsaber through the air in a heady strain against Zylixx's upper legs, listened as he screamed out in agonized horror and started to fall. Lusiel cut off his remaining discordant notes with one last descant, her lightsaber swinging up and then down. The Jedi's head swung off and away.

Breathing hard, Lusiel turned, saw the calmer Jedi, Ulldin, breaking free of Quinn's gooey snare. He shouted angrily at Quinn, raising his lightsaber in a heady motion, preparing to charge the Imperial. Lusiel leapt, flying through the air towards the knight, crashing against him in a crescendo. Ulldin screamed out only once, as Lusiel's lightsaber cleanly took his arm so that his lightsaber crashed uselessly to the floor.

Ulldin went down to a knee, holding his newly made stump close to his chest, looking up at Lusiel. "What a waste. I had no idea Zylixx was … imbalanced. You exposed his weakness so easily."

Lusiel shrugged. "Your kind either fall to the dark. Or to a Sith's might."

"Nomen Karr will prove your words false. You've won the day, Sith. Kill me if you must."

"Oh, I must."

Ulldin sighed as he watched the red glow grow bigger against his vision. "May the Force … accept me."

* * *

"You did well, Quinn."

"So did you, my lord."

"A job so well done deserves a reward."

"What sort of reward would you like, my lord?"

"No, a reward for you."

"My lord, pardon me. But are we arguing about who most deserves a reward?"

"Not really. We both want the same thing."

"Oh. Are you certain?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I know what I would like but I'm not terribly sure what you would like."

"What, at all? Or just right now?"

"Since we're standing in front of the airlock, we may want to go with 'right now'."

"Well, right now, I want to touch you."

"Touch me? Where?"

"Right here, outside the airlock. I'm not sure Vette needs to watch us, I mean."

"No, my lord. I mean. Where ... on my body?"

"Quinn, are you stammering?"

"Yes, my lord."

"I like that."

"Of course you do, my lord. I'll stammer all you like. If you touch me."

"Where do you want me to touch you?"

"Right here. Outside the airlock, of course."

"Quinn, you make me laugh."

"Touch me, here."

And she did.


	49. Chapter 49

Jaesa could see the entrance to her master's quarters. He'd been certain, he told her, that Darth Baras would never find him there. "He will assume I would go somewhere distant, obscure. Not a place we're both familiar with." And yet Jaesa could see Imperial soldiers guarding the doorway. Her heart broke, to discover yet another person she cared for had been compromised.

Everyone she cared about was being slowly destroyed. One by one, those who'd taught her, cared for her – all of them were being lost to her one by one. She'd begged Master Karr help her, teach her, so that she might defend those she cared for. But he'd insisted only that she stay away, hidden. He'd told her Baras would eventually be defeated and her loved ones would be safe.

But that wasn't happening.

Baras was winning, it seemed.

But how could that be, she agonized, if Master Karr was right and the Jedi were better, stronger?

Worse, she'd begun to suspect that what was driving Master Karr had far more to do with beating Darth Baras, than truly helping and guiding Jaesa.

She was a pawn. Only a pawn. In a game of pride between two sides of the same coin.

Jaesa was determined she no longer be used so utterly. She wanted answers. She wanted truth. She wanted this to end, today.

She'd defied her master, come to Hutta, utterly focused on confronting this travesty once and for all, to look into the face of the one who'd killed her parents, her teacher, her friend. She marched up to the door, defiant, her chin held high as she watched the soldiers come to attention. She waited for them to grab her, hold her. Instead, they waved her past, invited her to enter.

Jaesa was confused. And frustrated.

What game was the Sith playing, she wondered.

It had to be a game, of course. Master Karr insisted the Sith were deceivers, liars. They offered nothing but hate, he told her. They had no drive, no focus past the most horrid of satisfactions. They wanted chaos, ruin, destruction. They had no concept of right or good. They didn't know what it meant to care for or love others. The Sith, Master Karr said, were nothing but monsters, easily defeated.

Although, Jaesa pondered. If that were so, why was it so imperative she hide from them?

That's when she saw them for the first time. Her master, Nomen Karr, was bound in a chair, spittle running down his chin as he shouted angrily at a woman garbed in a black and wine-colored robe covering a metallic breastplate and leg guards.

The woman – she had to be the Sith, even though Master Karr told her Darth Baras' apprentice was a nasty, menacing creature befouled by the dark side of the force, her skin ravaged and her eyes spitting red flames – but this woman was calm in the face of Master Karr's bitter diatribe, even smiled at him. Her skin was creamy, particularly as it was framed by inky tendrils of hair caught up in a cute bun against the back of her head. Her eyes weren't red at all but large and chocolate brown, shining brightly in her face.

It was Master Karr's eyes that were repulsive, swollen red and glittering with maddened hostility. His skin was pale and twisted. And he was spitting. At the woman and her male companion.

Jaesa noticed him for the first time, he was staying so quiet, there, behind the chair where Master Karr was bound. He obviously deferred to the Sith woman, glancing at her from time to time with respect and even approval. He was dark-haired, like the woman, but when he looked over and saw Jaesa, motioned to the Sith that she had entered the room, she guessed, she saw that his eyes were bright blue. He was actually quite attractive, Jaesa thought crazily.

"Ah, it seems our guest of honor has arrived," the Sith said, coming around the table to greet Jaesa, her smile bright and curious. Hardly the monster Master Karr had described. Weren't monsters supposed to be hideous? Did they smile at you? Did they say, "Welcome," and ask you to become comfortable?

"Stupid child! I told you to stay away!" Master Karr continued ranting, as the man behind him carefully restrained him in the chair.

Jaesa squared her shoulders and faced the Sith. "I've come to demand you release my Master, Sith!"

The Sith cocked her head, considering. "But, Jaesa. I thought you wanted this over with. That is what your message said. Nomen Karr has deceived you horribly, used you as a pawn against my own master. This struggle, here, has been designed to stop him."

"No, Jaesa! Don't listen to her! Escape from this place!" Nomen Karr cried, wriggling against his bonds.

"What have you done to him? He looks awful," Jaesa said, agonized.

The Sith shook her head, glancing back at Master Karr regretfully. "He thought himself above falling, used his anger and pride to try and defeat me. He discovered what so many Jedi learn, that the dark side is very much a part of all of us. No Jedi is immune from its influence. Better to embrace the whole of yourself than to strive, rather, to deny what's so much a part of you, don't you think?"

Jaesa stared at her, felt the confusion seeping through her, as the Sith described how she'd felt for so long a time. The Jedi insisted she hide her feelings, deny them, as if they were shameful. But when she asked why, she was only given cliché answers, as if by rote. No one could truly explain to her why she was to prevent herself from feeling or even if that were possible. She'd been confused for so long a time and, here, finally, was someone giving her a reasoned response.

Nomen Karr twisted in his seat, denouncing her for coming to this place. She watched him with growing anger, that he'd not given her the direction she needed. Then she looked back at the Sith. "Was he always like this?"

The Sith shrugged. "Have you ever really looked?"

Jaesa shook her head. "No. Master Karr told me to use my gift only when it was necessary. I've never brought it to bear on him. But … Would you let me?"

"Of course." The Sith waved a hand in Master Karr's direction.

Jaesa sent herself into looking at Master Karr, saw the gleaming aura of his character, the colors swirling, the impressions and feelings. "I sense pride … envy and hate … and vengeance! No! It has to be a trick! Master Karr told me the Sith lie all the time! I would've known if this was in him all along, I would've known!"

"Would you? When you just said you've never looked? The Jedi fool themselves, Jaesa. They are so convinced of their falsehoods they can't even see them as such anymore. But you see the truth, don't you?"

"I don't know what to believe, damn you! I thought I'd found something to believe in! Now you're telling me I'm wrong." Jaesa felt like crying.

"Jaesa, it's all a trick!" Nomen Karr was swearing again. "Just turn your power on the Sith. Look at her!"

"Look at me as long as you like. I have nothing to hide." The Sith faced Jaesa simply and certainly. Jaesa saw her, really. Her aura was dark and crimson red, it didn't swirl about the Sith so much as it emanated from her. It really was the most beautiful and powerful aura she'd ever seen.

"You're so dark. Anger and greed drive your emotions. You're cruel and malevolent." Jaesa cried out and turned away.

The Sith shrugged. "I am what I am. I serve for the betterment of the whole. I am determined on order and control. I do not lie or deceive as to my purpose or myself. I will make the Empire stronger by my will."

"Foolish child, the Sith are not a puzzle. They are the embodiment of darkness." Nomen Karr had begun sounding tired and broken.

"I'm sorry, master. I've wandered into a dangerous trap. I'll do whatever I can to stop this Sith and save you." Jaesa promised him.

The Sith smiled at Jaesa again. "You can try to stop me, of course. I know you're angry as much at the Jedi as you are anything. I am not afraid. Together, we'll learn the truth of things, right?"

"No, Jaesa! Don't!" The dark-haired man gripped her master's shoulder, pulling him back into the chair again.

Jaesa pulled her lightsaber from its place on her back, the double-bladed weapon in her hands giving her a sense of security and strength. She threw back her shoulders, glaring at the Sith. "I've warned you, Sith! You fall now!" And Jaesa rushed at her, even as Nomen Karr cried out to Jaesa that she wait.

But Jaesa was done with waiting. She'd waited as her old teacher on Tatooine was destroyed, his student coming to her to weep terrible tears of failure. She'd waited when her family was killed, her sweet parents who only wanted some small bit of bettering for themselves and instead died so terribly. She'd waited when her friend Ulldin died trying one last time to defeat this Sith, to save Jaesa. Jaesa was going to finish it once and for all. Now. No more waiting.

But the Sith was stronger. Jaesa knew it only moments into the fight. She moved like a river would, fluidly, with purpose and power. It was as if she knew precisely where she needed to be moments before and then suddenly was just _there_. She met every one of Jaesa's blows with effortless repulsion, uncomplicated and simple. She didn't even try to hurt Jaesa. She only withstood her attack, until Jaesa finally and ridiculously dwindled into incapability, winded and defeated.

She stood there, gasping for air, staring at the Sith. The woman canted her dark head in Jaesa's direction for only a moment. Then she suddenly rushed forward, her lightsaber flaring scarlet for a single wild moment as it arced over Jaesa's head. Then it froze in place, inches from Jaesa's face, leaving her to gaze at it in stupefied amazement, as it quivered its awful song to her.

Then the Sith stepped back, pulling her saber away and sheathing it smoothly. Jaesa hung her head, shamed.

"Just so … frustrating. Why can't I defeat you? Master Karr told me it was easy! That the Sith couldn't withstand the good side. Was it all … was it all lies? Everything?" Jaesa moaned. "The dark side is clearly stronger. How is it possible?"

The dark-haired man pulled Master Karr from his seat, yanking him towards them both. He collapsed to his knees next to Jaesa, looking up at her sorrowfully. "You haven't completed your training. When you've fully communed with the light side, no Sith could match you."

The Sith shook her head. "If that were so, then you would've been able to match me. You yourself are a master of the light side, are you not? " Jaesa saw the truth of the Sith's words hit her old master and she ached. But the Sith reached out with an answer, a solution. Something that finally soothed the agony of frustration that had eaten at Jaesa's spirit for too long a time. Forever, it seemed.

She said, "Jaesa, the Jedi offer you only illusions. They fight to defend a chaotic and disordered world. They lack true control and, thus, real power, because they struggle endlessly against their true nature. It is to be pitied and, ultimately, rooted out. _THAT_ is what I fight, _THAT_ is what I oppose. That arrogance that says we must sacrifice who and what we are, in order to accommodate some impossible to achieve ideal. Where everyone suffers at the mercy of a disorganized whole." She looked down at Nomen Karr's kneeling figure. "I want better than that, for me, for those I care about. And for you."

She was right. The sense of correctness filled Jaesa for the first time. It was like seeing a light come on after being shut away in a dark room for so long your eyes had begun to blur. Jaesa almost cried out at the rightness of the feeling, the glorious sensation of finally being freed from a lie.

"Will you teach me, Sith?" Jaesa asked, using the force to reach out to her.

"Do you want me to, Jaesa?"

"Oh, yes. More than anything."

"Then I'll teach you."

Jaesa looked down at the man she'd once called master.

"What about him, master?"

"What do you think we should do with him, Jaesa? Tell me your feelings."

"I'm not sure. A part of me only wants him to go away. But I'm so angry at him, too. He used me. He deceived me."

The Sith – no, her master now – her master shrugged. "You should do to him what you feel is most appropriate, here, Jaesa. He's misused your trust in his guidance, to tool you towards his purpose. I know what _I_ would do to him."

Jaesa nodded. "You're right, master." She pulled her lightsaber free and turned towards Nomen Karr for one last time.

"No, Jaesa! You're not a murderer. Don't let them turn you into one."

Jaesa glared at him. "And how many times have you told me it was for the greater good? Isn't that the rule you preached to me?

He cried out one last time, before Jaesa's saber flashed brightly against his face. Then he was gone. Jaesa laughed out loud. She was free!


	50. Chapter 50

Lusiel studied her new apprentice exactly. Jaesa Willsaam felt, to her, like a tiny bird just let loose from its nest for the very first time, twittering wildly in the wide open air in joy. She considered how best to guide the girl into an appreciation for all the dangers present in such an incredible space. Hopefully before she was destroyed by one.

Vette approached Jaesa warily as they came aboard the ship from Hutta's orbiting station. First danger, Lusiel thought. Jaesa, anyway, wanted to flex her new powerful wings against Vette's clipped ones. And Vette, long resentful of her enslavement, didn't respond well.

Lusiel felt like a mother holding two squabbling children apart.

"Well, if I'm the apprentice, what does that make you?"

"Huh? Don't know how you being an apprentice makes me anything at all. I'll be a blue Twi'lek no matter what you are."

"I don't understand. Do I have to direct you? You are a slave, right?"

"Look, I'm going to labor under the delusion you're kinda slow to things, being new and all. So just understand there is really only one person on this ship who – ahem! – directs me. And that person isn't you. Take it up with her if you have questions."

Lusiel would've said something to clarify the situation if Darth Baras hadn't taken that particular moment to barge his way into things. The man had a terrible sense of timing, she thought. Actually, just about everything in regards Darth Baras was a pain in the …

"I sensed Nomen Karr's death from across the galaxy." Baras' image stared down at them from the holoterminal. Vette crowded close to Lusiel, quiet. But Jaesa face the transmission with eager enthusiasm. Definitely a matter of concern, Lusiel thought. She'd have to explain Baras to her apprentice. Very soon.

"I must admit, to be rid of him after all these years … it has unsettled me a bit." Baras actually appeared thoughtful. Lusiel wondered if she was finally becoming so accustomed to the mask she could finally guage Baras' expressions regardless of the thing.

She leaned forward, concernedly. "I did what I thought you would want. Was I in error?"

"Not in the least, my apprentice." Baras seemed to be back to gloating, rather. "I am not wounded by this development. Merely bathing in the full breadth of its implications."

Lusiel nodded. She was relieved, that Jaesa's first meeting with Darth Baras wouldn't be as unpleasant as her own had been. He even greeted Jaesa with something that amounted to warmth! Lusiel felt like grinning but bit her lip, instead.

Baras turned his warm regard on Lusiel, then. It was a bit disconcerting. "There is no doubt you are a master of the dark arts now, apprentice. Only the most accomplished among us are named as lords among Sith. You have more than earned the distinction. I hereby grant you the title of Sith Lord."

Lusiel hesitated. She opted for a politic response. "You honor me." Lusiel actually felt she'd served with honor, enough she shouldn't have to receive anything from Baras. Best not to say so, however. There were ever-growing number of people depending on her, it seemed. And it would figure, too. She becomes a Sith lord and Baras tells her to return to Dromund Kaas. She'd wager real money he needed her to do some other bit of work for him.

At least he ended the transmission, then.

"Wow. A Sith Lord. I'm impressed, truly. We going to celebrate before heading to Kaas City? I could get Toovee to make a cake." Vette actually rubbed her blue hands together.

"We have cake? Since when?"

Quinn shook his head. "I don't believe I've programmed Toovee to make cake, my lord. Dessert is not my favorite part of a meal, after all. The droid can prepare cookies, however."

"It's your lucky day, Jaesa. We have cookies!"

* * *

Jaesa was beyond curious.

She was currently ensconced in one of the bench seats in the ship's lounge, replete from a meal the droid had put together. The food was delicious, a cut of boar meat basted in broth over a salad made of sea grass and cucumbers. And, yes, there were plenty of cookies.

She appreciated her quarters, as well. The bed was small and narrow, quite brief. But there was a nice big cabinet for her things and it was private. Master Lusiel had also indicated she was free to decorate the room as she liked. "Although I'll warn you to keep your decorating to your room. My captain seems to have a bit of a problem with décor that leaks outside of our private spaces," Lusiel had described.

"I still want that apron back, dammit!" Vette had crowed.

All of which brought Jaesa's curiousity back full circle. She eyed Vette as the most likely source of answers at the moment. Master Lusiel had already retreated to her quarters, anyway, and Vette told her that Quinn was on the bridge at the front of the ship. The two young women were alone at the moment.

"Master Lusiel seems very friendly with you and the captain." Jaesa posed.

"Totally different from Quinn! He's a droid, even if he does have skin. We are nothing alike!"

Jaesa was amused. "A droid, seriously?"

"Yep, don't let him fool you."

"Master Lusiel likes him, though."

"That's like saying Tatooine is balmy."


	51. Interlude of Act 1

So I've concluded Chapter 1, here. Brief pause, then.

I've been capturing video during my Lusiel playthrough so that I could preserve the essence of the story as it's progressing. I refer back to my various video streams in order to get it "just right" basically. However, my computer began spitting at me, recently, this slew of error messages that described lack of memory for my recordings. It put me in something of a bind, as I found myself going back to delete a bunch of videos just to make enough room for the final scenes from the first chapter.

Now that the chapter is concluded, I'm going to have to go on a deletion frenzy and clear out some space so that I can continue Lusiel's story. With that in mind, I worked over the past couple of nights to save some of the images into a montage that I uploaded onto Youtube. Not the best video I've seen, mind you. But only because I'm not at all a guru of Window's Moviemaker.

But it's good enough to share, I think. Thought it would give you some idea what pictures are running through my head as I describe the story, here. Don't hesitate to search for "Lusiel - Sith Warrior Chapter 1" at youtube, if interested.


	52. Chapter 51

Quinn was lying on his back, his legs extending out from underneath the ship's coolant system, various pipes and tubing reaching over his head and torso. Vette sat nearby his feet, maintaining a constant twittering chatter that Quinn had long since blocked out as he yanked and manipulated various piping cylinders into their correct configuration.

"Vette. I need an arc welder." Quinn grunted, his voice muffled under the machinery.

Vette fumbled in the tool box she'd dumped at her side. "Arc welder … arc welder … it's in here somewhere … Got it!" She passed the tool into Quinn's hand that he reached out from under the machine.

Jaesa tumbled into the engine room right then, stubbing her toe on what appeared to be a box full of metallic ship parts. She assumed they'd been delivered to the ship during their recent foray to the Imperial Fleet, having watched several personnel moving boxes about when they'd stopped there. Now she was left to hop up and down on one foot in pained and embarrassed distress.

Vette, anyway, thought it was beyond funny. Jaesa considered some degree of punishment she could levy on the Twi'lek – twist to the lekku, zap of electric shock, a serious club upside the head – but she knew that her master would be displeased. For whatever strange reason, Lusiel seemed to like Vette. Jaesa couldn't quite understand the appeal, although Vette did have her uses.

Jaesa did understand what Lusiel liked about Quinn, she thought, eyeing the man's legs. But Quinn had his own status in Lusiel's affection that literally screamed "Hands Off!" to her, leaving Jaesa to remain carefully mum on her interest in the Imperial.

She'd been considering how to approach Lusiel with her questions in regards exploring her physical desires. The Jedi had insisted she refrain from such behavior and Jaesa wanted to know if the Sith had similar strictures for their apprentices. It would probably be best to simply come out and ask. Before she did something stupid. Like say something charmingly dumb to the only man on board and end up in the med bay afterwards if she was lucky. The airlock if she wasn't. She probably wouldn't be lucky, Jaesa thought, as she considered Lusiel's ordinary aura.

In the meantime, Quinn hadn't moved, just continued tinkering despite Jaesa's entrance. He rarely paid attention to anyone that Jaesa had seen. Except for Lusiel. Everyone paid attention to her. Not like Quinn did, though. He watched her like she was a rich wine and he was a connoisseur of the stuff. Like he wanted to consume her. He seemed to ache with it. Jaesa had wondered at first if his feelings were so strong because they weren't reciprocated but Lusiel felt just as strongly as he did, watched him just as much.

That's what was confusing Jaesa so much. If Sith were able to explore such feelings, why was Lusiel denying hers? It was baffling just watching them together.

Vette continued chuckling. "Better watch that box. It jumps out at you when you least expect it."

"Oh, that's a zinger, Vette. I'm so impressed. Can't you tell?" Jaesa rolled her eyes at Vette.

"Yep, it's obvious. Or you'd have come up with a better come-back."

Jaesa growled at her.

"Hey, that's better, at least!"

Quinn reprimanded them from underneath the coolant machinery, not even bothering to look. "Do not get blood anywhere in the engine room!"

Vette grinned at Jaesa, sticking out her tongue in mocking challenge. Jaesa pantomimed kicking the Twi'lek. Painfully, she wished. But Vette only laughed.

Jaesa sighed. "Captain Quinn, there's a transmission for you on the holo. Some old guy, in a uniform. He seems upset."

Quinn mumbled something. Jaesa wasn't sure but she thought he said, "Not again." But he scooted back out from underneath the machine, nonetheless. She watched as he moved to the sink nearby and scrubbed his hands and arms, then reached for his coat that had been hanging across one of the nearby venting pipes.

He shrugged towards Vette, who waved at him merrily, as he went about pulling his coat on. He sighed loudly as he made to walk out of the engine room, while Vette went about packing up the tools and gear they'd been using to work on the coolant machinery. It was obvious they'd communicated somehow, although Jaesa was still confused watching them. Jaesa turned back to Vette after Quinn had gone.

"So who's calling?"

"Oh please don't ask. It's headache enough we have to listen to him when he calls."

* * *

Lusiel stepped aside Quinn at the holoterminal, gazing at the image of a slight, aging Imperial Moff, his upper lip covered in a thick bushy mustache. Quinn was shaking his head at the man's behavior when she entered. He mumbled to her as she stood next to him.

"These transmissions have increased. They're beginning to disrupt operations, my lord. He's nearly incoherent, as you can tell." Quinn's frustration was intense. Lusiel eyed the Moff critically, listening as he ranted. He appeared dazedly confused, in fact, like he didn't know where he was or who he was talking to.

"Flew the coop! Your new cage will be smaller. And tighter! Coffin-sized. No smaller! I'll put you in a locket that hangs around my neck!" The Moff was shaking with agitation. "Druckenwell proved my point. The glory is mine! Mine! You're nobody!"

"It's unlikely he'll stop, my lord," Quinn rubbed his forehead wearily. Lusiel pursed her lips.

"What seems to be bothering him this time?"

"He's threatening to destroy Balmorra because I somehow escaped the place, actually."

The Moff seemed to be jumping in place all of a sudden. "Why did you transfer me, Radjnic? I see a Sith on this thing! Not the Admiral."

Lusiel glanced at Quinn. "Admiral?"

Quinn shook his head. "He calls me the Admiral Malcontent. He seems to believe that's my actual rank and name."

Lusiel wagged her finger at the holotransmission. "Broysc, calm yourself!"

Moff Broysc glared back at her. "How dare you! Wait … You! It was you who liberated the Admiral! Have you lost your mind? Don't you know it was because of him we lost the Battle of Toolay?"

Quinn sighed, explaining again. "Broysc's earliest command. Before I was born."

"It was his blunder that allowed the escaped Jedi to flee Taris before the bombardment!"

"Ancient history, actually. Broysc wasn't even born."

"He sabotaged the Glory Space Station, for crying out loud!"

"I have no idea what that is."

Lusiel frowned up at the Moff. "Broysc, you are unfit for command. Your behavior is compromising the Empire. I want you to resign."

"Oh ho, Sith! I'm not unfit, just passionate about this … scourge … that threatens us all! Once it's eradicated, we'll all be fine! I order you to deliver him to me in order he be executed!"

Lusiel was starting to lose her temper. "I do not accommodate lunatics, Broysc. You do not order me!"

"Then I accuse you alongside him! Radjnic, cut transmission! Cut it!"

Lusiel was disgusted. She almost kicked the holoterminal but noticed Jaesa and Vette standing nearby, watching. So she rolled her eyes instead. Far better to roll her eyes than lose her temper like a small child, she supposed.

"Have you contacted Imperial High Command, captain? The man is absolutely unhinged."

"Yes, my lord. But no one will confront Moff Broysc. He's too powerful and entrenched. He will serve until he's killed. Or willingly steps down." Quinn's gaze harded. "And he will _never_ willingly step down. It's seems clear I must deal with Broysc myself."

Lusiel nodded. "This is your call, Quinn, but you have my support."

She stood in front of the terminal long after Quinn had left her so that he could prepare for his confrontation with Broysc. Her mind swam with old memories - of bitter recriminations and long dead cries of agony. And blood. Madness plagued the weak. Stole the best of the Empire. She'd seen it time and again. She refused it any latitude.

Broysc wouldn't step down so he'd be killed. That's all there was to it.

* * *

Vette heard the man yelling first. She rushed into the lounge just as Quinn did, carrying a bundled up Moff Broysc, manacled and cloaked, that he dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. Vette laughed as he flopped around, there, kicking his thin legs and screeching like a mad banshee.

He reminded her of a hard-shelled animal Nok Drayan had brought Risha once from the planet Mon Calamar. He'd said it was called a turtle. When he threw it onto the floor at Risha's feet it landed on its hard-shelled back with its legs kicking futilely in the air, unable to right itself. Risha and Vette had spun the creatures on its back for endless ages, giggling all the while.

Vette almost asked Quinn if she could spin Broysc around like she had that long ago turtle. But he was watching as Lusiel entered the room right then. He reached down and yanked the Moff up by the scruff of his jacket, shaking him slightly to make him aware of Lusiel's entrance.

Broysc began screaming when he saw Lusiel, insisting he was commandeering her ship and crew. Vette snorted. As if, she thought. Jaesa smirked, as well, as she came to stand alongside Vette and watched the show.

"Shut up, Broysc!" Lusiel snarled at the Moff.

"Sith! I command you! I'm a Moff, you'll do as I say, you and all your people! I'll kill you all, you'll all be execute!"

"You do not threaten my people, lunatic!"

Quinn stepped between Lusiel and the Moff, sensing the impending explosion. "With your permission, my lord, I will handle the Moff's execution. This is personal for me, after all." He glared at Broysc.

"No! I'm a Moff! You can't do anything to me!" Broysc began twitching as he stood there, his agitation so greatly increasing Vette thought he was surely going to die of shock right then and there.

"You're not a Moff any longer, Broysc!" Quinn stood proudly in front of him.

"Just dispose of him, Quinn. I don't wish to regard him any further."

"Of course, my lord." Quinn didn't look up as Lusiel left the room. Jaesa frowned, watching her go. She sensed her master was far more disturbed by the events than anyone really understood. Perhaps she should mention something to Vette afterwards …

A blaster bolt sounded. Jaesa thrilled as she watched Broysc collapse to the floor, his head little more than a spongy mess of red goo. Vette only groaned, sickened. It was Jaesa who assisted Quinn in disposing of the remains, calling it stimulating.

Vette just thought how much better Broysc looked when he still resembled a skinny turtle.


	53. Chapter 52

The scream ripped through the ship, wild and piercing. It was sharp and scared. Quinn plunged from the bridge, rushing into the lounge and quickly counting each one of the crew there. Toovee was warbling, "Oh my," while Vette and Jaesa looked over at him from the doorways of their quarters. But Lusiel was conspicuously absent.

Quinn rushed towards the door to Lusiel's quarters. He refused to call the feeling ripping through him fear. It was worry. Concern, maybe. Concern was the best word, Quinn told himself. But he didn't really believe it. All of his mental doors were blasting open and all he could really think, logically, was that he'd never before heard Lusiel scream. It was that thought that turned his supposed concern into something far worse. He just didn't name it.

Jaesa was talking. "She was upset earlier, I sensed it."

Quinn began knocking on the door, even as he argued with Jaesa. "Why didn't you say something?"

"To who?"

Vette laid a hand against Jaesa's elbow. "Always talk to Quinn about things like that. He's our doctor, too."

Jaesa looked at Quinn, her brow upraised. "Is there anything you don't do around here?"

"Don't give him an even bigger ego, sheesh." Vette rolled her eyes.

Quinn ignored them both. He stopped banging on Lusiel's door and began working the lock himself, rather. It swung open after only a moment of his manipulation and the light shined into the room, immediately illuminating the bed. Quinn stepped inside, speaking quickly over his shoulder, "I'll assist her."

He heard Vette, "Okay, Jaesa. Let's go back to bed."

Then the door closed. Quinn could still see her there on the bed, the pale red glow of the nighttime illumination ringing the room showing her to him. He breathed in slowly as he regarded her, gathering himself. He spoke to her, softly, "Lusiel?"

Lusiel was huddled in on herself, curled into a ball in the center of the bed. She was naked, her pale skin gleaming with sweat. Her face was buried in her arms where they wrapped around her knees. She was making small gasping sounds. Quinn wanted to scream himself just watching her.

"Malavai."

Quinn closed his eyes. He toed off his boots and tugged off his coat, climbing up onto the bed once he was down to a shirt and trousers. He carefully maneuvered himself until his legs laid alongside either side of Lusiel's form. Then he pulled her into his arms, holding her back against his front, his head tucked aside her own, their jaws rubbing together.

"What's wrong?" He whispered to her.

Lusiel sighed. "Just a bad dream."

"Tell me."

She hesitated. Then she said, quietly, "I saw her kill him."

"Your father, you mean."

Lusiel nodded. "Mother was mad, insane. She didn't really understand what she'd done until it was over. She saw me standing there. She just screamed and screamed. It was so loud. There was blood all over her. She turned around and ran at the window, burst through it. She fell hundreds of stories, screaming forever."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "And I brought a madman here today."

"Quinn, don't. My mother was maddened long before Broysc lost his mind."

"But if I'd known …"

Lusiel shrugged. "You're here right now. That's what matters."

Quinn rubbed his jaw in gentle strokes against Lusiel's. It tickled her, feeling his stubbled cheek, and she quivered, chuckling softly into the darkness. She leaned her head back, letting it rest against his shoulder. Then she whispered to him, "You have on more clothes than I do."

He smiled. "I wasn't certain how you'd feel if I took them all off before I held you."

Lusiel turned, coming to her knees in front of Quinn. She sat there for several seconds, just staring at him. He looked at her, sliding his gaze down. Her sweetly perfect breasts were trembling above her soft, muscled belly. He could just make out the shadowed curve of her sex, the dark curls there barely visible.

Lusiel watched his eyes as he looked at her and she thrilled to see them darken to an almost blue-black, fiery. To be wanted so badly … she smiled, arching her back slightly so that her breasts thrust out towards him. His gaze shot back up to hers as he groaned. She chuckled again and then reached for the hem of his white shirt.

Quinn raised his arms, felt her hands slide along his sides, pushing the shirt up and over his head. Then she was looking at him, running her dark gaze down his chest, taking in the muscled frame she'd desired for such a long time. Her hands followed the trek of her eyes, running through the brief springy hair on his chest and down over his stomach, until she reached the fastening of his pants. He came to his knees, even as she pulled and yanked at the opening of his pants, tugging them down and baring his groin and buttocks. He pulled his legs free, as Lusiel reached around him to clutch at the globes of his ass, pulling him towards herself so that his erection nestled in the hollow of her breasts.

He let his head fall back, as he rubbed against her breasts in gentle rocking motions, feeling himself grow even harder if it was possible. He reached for her, held her head in the span of his hands, as he bent towards her mouth, seizing it with his own and thrusting his tongue inside, thrilling at this first penetration of her body that night. She ran her fingers along the curve of his spine, sending sparks of tingling sensation through her touch, listening to him groan into her mouth.

He pushed her back, until she was completely prone, her head facing the foot of the bed. He knelt between her knees, lifting her legs to balance her thighs on his, before leaning over to take one of her nipples into his mouth. He rolled the bud against his tongue, softly nipping at it, even as he palmed its twin. He played with her breasts for long, endless moments, running his mouth back and forth between them and his tongue in sweeping motions along the sensitive skin under the small, plump mounds.

Lusiel moaned, clutching at the back of Quinn's head, running her fingers through his hair. She ran her feet up to clasp him around his buttocks, pulling him closer. He settled himself into the hollow of her hips, rubbed his cock against her opening, listened to her as she began chanting, "Yes. Yes. Malavai."

He groaned, leaning down to whisper against her ear, "I love it when you say my name."

She opened her eyes to look up at him, suspended there above her, his arms stretched out and balanced on the bed to either side of her shoulders. He was watching her, as he began pushing inside of her, felt her inner warmth clasp him, clutch him, and draw him in.

Both of them groaned loudly as he finally slid all the way inside, enough he could feel the soft opening of her cervix clutching at the head of his cock in little kissing sensations. She leaned up, holding him around the neck. He felt her brush her lips across his jaw, her tongue skittering over his ear, as she whispered to him, "Malavai … do it, Malavai," and his name whispered in her voice made him moan.

He raised himself above her once again, bracing himself with his arms on the bed beneath her. And he began to move, thrusting his hips back and forth, so that his cock ran in and out of her channel in steady, smooth glides of pure sensation. He pushed his knees forward, thrusting her hips up higher, so that he could reach deeper inside of her, and Lusiel cried out a wild keening cry of delight. He gradually sped up his thrusts, felt his hips pounding against her buttocks.

He reached out with one arm to clutch at her torso, pulling her up and against his chest so that he could feel her breasts rubbing back and forth against him. Their bodies became damp, glistening with sweat, so that their flesh slid slickly against each other. He could feel her tightening around him, her inner muscles clenching at him, and he cried out, "Yes, Lusiel! Now! Let me feel it! Come!" And Lusiel exploded, sobbing her satisfaction against his shoulder, ripples of pleasure cascading through her.

He growled, felt his scrotum tightening as his orgasm approached. He thrust against the woman beneath him, once and then again, just before the satisfaction washed over him. He pushed into her one last time, held himself still and deep, and poured his passion into her. Quinn moaned her name, before he finally collapsed alongside her onto the bed, pulling her with him so that he could hold her close as he panted into calm again. They lay there, holding each other, quiet, drifting.

She whispered, drowsy and sated, "Stay."

He whispered back, "I will."


	54. Chapter 53

"You'll cut off your damn foot if you don't concentrate on what you're doing, Jaesa!" Lusiel stepped back from their sparring match, smoothly retracting her lightsaber as she eyed her apprentice critically.

Jaesa was breathing hard, frustrated. Fighting Lusiel always made her feel like she was throwing herself against a wall, leaving her feeling unfulfilled, unsatisfied. Maybe if she landed even one blow, she'd feel better, Jaesa thought. Instead, she snarled, "I'm trying!"

But Lusiel just snorted an irritated sound. "You're lucky I'm in such a good mood or I'd give you a scar so you might remember the value of focusing your mind on what you're doing!" She held her hand up when Jaesa protested, asking for another match. "Not today. Tell me about the book I asked you to read, rather."

Together, the two women sank into a more meditative stance, kneeling there in the center of the lounge. Vette had retreated from the space when they took to training there in the mornings, declaring she knew better than to get in the way of any sort of Sith teaching. "I don't want to end up being the lesson," she'd laughed, only half joking. Quinn was never around during the sessions, either, now that Jaesa thought about it. Probably tinkering with the engines again, she imagined.

"It was a journal, master. Written by some minor Jedi. I've never even heard of her, in fact. The book was exceedingly boring." Jaesa groused.

Lusiel shrugged. "One can learn the most interesting details from the simplest sources. It's important not to close your mind to anything, to any sensation or idea or feeling. No matter who might provide it."

"Oh." Jaesa pondered. "Well, the woman didn't seem particularly talented. Most of her abilities, that I can tell, were average. She tossed things, rocks mostly. She seemed to have some skill with healing and much of her journal was taken up describing her work in various clinics."

Lusiel nodded, listening even as she meditated.

"The only remarkable ability she mentioned, in fact, had to do with force bonds that she created intermittently with other Jedi. It seemed an innate talent, something she did without conscious or willful thought. She could actually take on some of the talents of those Jedi she bonded with for short periods, in fact."

"And she doesn't describe how she accomplished it?"

"She wrote, 'it just happens, I have no control over it,'" Jaesa answered, still trying to meditate although her earlier frustration continued to bother her peace of mind. Why couldn't she manage even one time to get around or through her master's defenses? She knew she was moving fast, that she was agile and quick. Yet no matter how often she tried skirting around her, Lusiel always met her attacks with precise, controlled and dedicated resilience.

"I see. Such an ability could be useful." Lusiel said, apparently thinking aloud.

"I suppose." Jaesa eyed her master, gathering herself. She was obviously struggling to say something, and Lusiel turned to look at her, her brow upraised.

"What's on your mind, Jaesa?"

Jaesa sighed relievedly, excited. "So much! I've only touched the dark side and already feel as if the galaxy were unfurling before me. There's so much to take in! I've always felt kept and confined, always having to watch what I say and feel, as if emotion were the enemy. The dark side is my freedom. I'm going to express … everything."

Lusiel nodded. "Letting our emotions flow makes us stronger and unlocks our potential."

"I am swelling with pride and hope, master," Jaesa asserted. "May I ask something?"

Lusiel gestured an assent, watching her.

"The Jedi kept me stifled. Romantic interactions were strictly forbidden. I wasn't certain about the Sith but I see that you yourself indulge your passions. I'm curious if I'm permitted to seek out such interludes for myself." Jaesa spoke in a rush, like a small child asking to reach into a cookie jar, fearing her knuckles would be rapped if she grabbed one. Lusiel chuckled.

"You're required to seek out a full range of sensations and emotions, Jaesa. By all means. When we're not occupied with other more necessary tasks, of course." Then Lusiel's gaze hardened. "Stay away from Quinn, Jaesa."

Jaesa gulped. She'd been a fool if she'd assumed any of her feelings went unnoticed by her master, she thought. "I know he's yours, master."

Lusiel closed her eyes again, meditating. "Tell me more about the Jedi who made force bonds."


	55. Chapter 54

"I'm starting to feel Nar Shaddaa is like a broken record. I keep finding myself back here once again. And it stinks every time," Lusiel complained, heading out of the spaceport into the rancid air of Nar Shaddaa.

"Indeed. It seems to hold a certain appeal for traitors and scum, however." Quinn grumbled as he followed her.

"That is why we're here this time." Lusiel glanced at her companion, started teasing him. "We could try and hide out overnight, after we're finished. I know a place."

There was a burst of jealous energy from her captain, then, and Lusiel stopped in place, staring at him. It took her a moment to understand and then she wanted to laugh. She considered patting him on the back and promising she'd keep her armor on this time on Nar Shaddaa. But she bit back the temptation. Mostly because she didn't want him to know she was completely aware of his monitoring.

She also thought it prudent to take her armor off before she tumbled into bed with Quinn, though. She didn't want him injured, anyway. At least not seriously. Bites or nips were acceptable. She shuddered at the mere thought of marking his neck with love bruises. Oh, or he could mark _her_ neck. She almost pulled him aside to have him do it right then and there.

"I am not sure it would be wise to leave Vette and Jaesa alone on the ship that long." Quinn remarked, as they climbed into a taxi together.

Lusiel laughed. "Can't leave the kids home alone, of course. How about only a couple of hours, at least? The last time I was here on Nar Shaddaa was so boring. All I was able to do was visit some of the shops. By myself no less, because Vette was attending some sort of party with her sister."

Lusiel smiled to herself as Quinn's relief became palpable. It made his voice huskier, too. "I'm sure that would be acceptable, my lord."

"I sincerely hope it proves more than acceptable in the end, Quinn," Lusiel laughed as they reached the lower industrial sector of the city. How simply she managed to please him, she thought. Assuring him she hadn't spent a couple of hours in bed with a stranger while visiting Nar Shaddaa was all it took.

Lusiel was still purely satisfied with herself as they ambled around a corner and observed a couple of Republic soldiers in a guard position outside the doorway of General Karastace Gonn's safehouse. She leaped towards them before they could even shout a simple warning. Honestly, she thought as the men fell underneath the fury of her lightsaber and she anticipated the night ahead, this was by far the best trip to Nar Shaddaa she'd ever made.

* * *

It had been far too long a time since he'd been on the capital homeworld, Quinn thought as he followed Lusiel into Darth Baras' chambers. The air was heavy with power and presence, the might of the Empire intense. It was something he believed all Imperials should appreciate on a routine basis, so they never forgot what they fought and served for.

Lusiel paused in the doorway of Baras' office, blatantly listening to the holotransmission Darth Baras was monitoring. The deference he paid the Sith who's image was displayed was obvious and heady. Quinn saw Lusiel glance back at him and he nodded slightly at her, understanding her message. She would be focused on a tactful and politic display during the impending exchange, something Quinn greatly approved of. Lusiel's clarity, focus and intelligence was never more on display than when she interacted with her fellow Sith. It was almost like watching her during her melee attacks. Careful manuevering, almost dancing - smooth fluidity of motion designed to accomplish deliberate and ultimate success.

"Was it you, Baras? Did you destroy General Gonn?" The Sith was saying.

"It was, Lord Vengean. The fringe systems are now ripe for the taking."

Darth Vengean spoke determinedly. "Such an advantage will prod the rest of the Council out of passivity. They will see – war is the only answer. You have delivered to me what I most crave."

Lusiel stepped forward, bowing her head and saying, "Pardon the interruption, my lords."

Darth Vengean frowned, watching the lean Sith woman slipping into place alongside Darth Baras, while an Imperial remained standing submissively behind her. She looked particularly slight standing next to Baras, he thought. But she radiated assuredness and strength. He was intrigued.

"Who is this, Baras?" Darth Vengean queried.

"My mightiest apprentice, my lord. And the killer of General Gonn." Baras replied.

Baras' enforcer, of course, Vengean thought. Her achievements were remarkable enough he himself had heard stories of her. She was fast coming to the attention of some very powerful members of the Council, in fact. Given the chance, she would most certainly rise to challenge the strongest Sith and take her place among their greatest leaders.

Vengean eyed Baras shrewdly, surmising his intentions. Baras, he knew, would do all he could to deny the younger Sith that chance. He wouldn't want her overcoming his own power, after all, so he would seek to destroy her before then. But Vengean admired power foremost. And he sensed this particular Sith had a great deal of strength she could bring to bear, already. If Baras chose to destroy her, he didn't have much time left. Before too long, she would be more powerful than her master. Vengean eyed her carefully. Perhaps, he thought, she already was.

An interesting development, indeed.

Lusiel went to a knee in front of the holoterminal, bowing her head in grave respect. Her man followed suit. Vengean said, "And clearly a dutiful minion who well knows the meaning of respect. Rise, young one. You have served your master and your master's master well."

"It is my privilege, master." Lusiel nodded. Vengean was pleased as he sensed the barriers the woman placed between herself and his own force senses. Their strength was impressive. Yet another sign of her impressive might. That such a young Sith could stand her ground in the face of two such powerful Sith was a testament to the growing power of all the Sith. Their young and upcoming warriors were destined for greatness and would carry the Empire into a golden age of ruthless control over the whole of the galaxy. Vengean was purely satisfied.

"I'm impressed with your choice of apprentice, Baras." He threw back his shoulders, regarding the both of his followers. "It's time. I will send my destroyer to the fringe systems and they will be mine before anyone is the wiser. The order is given, Baras. Enact Plan Zero. Vengean out."

Baras let loose a hum of satisfaction as Vengean's image faded. "Excellent. I have waited such a long time. Plan Zero is the systematic elimination of the Republic's top military leaders. A preemptive strike that will leave the Republic headless."

Quinn stood attentively as Lusiel declared her willingness to enact Vengean's Plan Zero. He began calculating the necessary motions to ensure that Lusiel succeeded, taking note of Baras' directives and commands in his usual methodical manner.

"You continue to utilize Quinn, apprentice. Good. He's a valuable asset and should prove a worthy advantage when you reach Taris." Baras regarded Quinn, gauging his emotional frame of mind as he couldn't easily do where his apprentice was concerned. The Imperial's sentiments where Lusiel was concerned had grown even stronger since the last time he regarded him, Baras noted. He wondered if he should take some action involving Quinn, remove him from her or even kill him outright. Did he provide her too great an advantage, he pondered.

Then Lusiel leaned forward. "Yes, my lord. I have a high regard for Quinn's capabilities. He's an exemplary officer, an ideal far more in the Imperial military should aspire to." Lusiel was adamantly protective as she pressed, and Baras almost crowed gleefully. Her weakness was clear to him. Striking against the captain or using him to strike her could even prove her downfall.

Let them work together to see Plan Zero enacted. Let her have her last days with him. Soon enough, Baras thought, it would be too late. Very soon, he'd destroy her.


	56. Chapter 55

In Pierce's experience, Sith were dangerous beasts, in the compelling, beautiful way a Nexu looked as it leaped upon its prey – a wild, untamed creature you avoided unless you wanted your face chewed off, basically. Of course, Sith were usually not so pretty as a Nexu. They took hits enough their bodies suffered greatly, leaving them with cracking skin, twisted eyes, and false flesh.

Surely the Sith Moff Hurdeen described would be one of those, Pierce had thought. Only because the man spoke of an incredible warrior, the sort that charged headlong into battle bolstered with little but nerve and determination. Well, and that magical doohickey they tossed around so often, too, he supposed. But a Sith like that would surely be misshapen and awry, probably deformed somehow, marked with some cybernetics perhaps.

But, no. The Sith who approached Hurdenn's command was far more like the Nexu than any Sith he'd ever encountered, in fact. She was slim and sleekly beautiful, in a dark and captivating sort of way. As the Moff proceeded to toady all over her - practically drooling, the ass - Pierce just waited for her to swipe out at him with a vicious claw, so that the Moff's absurdly large head would bounce across the floor. Eyeing her lightsaber, where it hung off her belt, he imagined her quite capable of the feat.

The best moment of practically months of his work on Taris came when Hurdenn offered Pierce's service to the Sith. Hurdenn had expected the Sith to disdain the offer, of course. Maybe he thought she'd toss it back in his face. Or perhaps he'd imagined she'd look for more soldiers, insisted that Hurdenn himself remain involved. Instead, though, the Sith didn't even hesitate. She looked right at Pierce and announced, "Lieutenant, your service to me begins immediately."

Pierce felt himself get hard with anticipation. This Sith was one who took charge rather than mollycoddle about the way. She waved aside every offer of assistance from Moff Hurdeen, even, telling him she was capable of doing things herself. Pierce envisioned the combat, the battle that the Sith would lead him into and through, and he was ecstatic. Nothing stirred Pierce more than the promise of real action.

He was right, too. He'd anticipated the Sith was coming to Taris in search of the War Trust generals. Only because they were the biggest threat on the planet at the moment. Why else would such a formidable character as this particular Sith venture to a backwater like Taris?

"Got my hands on a Republic scout. Leaned on him, hard. He was setting up supply routes for Genral Frelka, the War Trust's junior member." Pierce reported.

The man standing behind the Sith suddenly leaned forward, addressing her. "We should speak to the scout, my lord. It would be beneficial to know what sort of supplies the Trust is using or in need of." He was obviously an Imperial officer, Pierce thought, noting the coat and trouser set common to Imperials who ventured into the field. Probably didn't want to get blood on one of his more fancy uniforms.

The Sith nodded and turned to Pierce. "I would like to interrogate the scout personally."

Damn, Pierce thought. "He's dead. Sorry."

The Imperial shifted, frowned. The Sith leaned back on her heals, regarded Pierce critically. "Next time, leave the interrogation to the professionals, then."

Hell, even when she reprimanded a man, she was gorgeous. Pierce nodded. "Noted. Been scoping the area the scout described. Several heavily armed Republic supply caravans run along carefully staggered routes. Couple dozen soldiers could hit the caravans, pull their transponders, triangulate their destination with the equipment here. Moff Hurdenn can't spare the manpower, though."

The Sith shrugged. "No matter. I'm easily the match for a couple dozen foot soldiers."

Pierce ran his eyes down her frame quickly. She looked rather small, actually. And curved deliciously, too. But she radiated significant power and confidence. He didn't really doubt her right then. He did wish he could watch her go at it, though.

"Then I guess I'm running the tech," Pierce almost whined. He thought he saw the Sith's lip give a little twitch, but he could be wrong. Did Sith laugh, he wondered. He'd never heard that they had any real sense of humor. Well, this Sith had already contradicted certain preconceptions Pierce had about Sith. What's one more? "Here are the coordinates. Caravans run daily but they vary the timing. I'm sure you'll come upon them eventually."

The Sith turned and handed the coordinates to her Imperial companion. Pierce watched as the man pulled out a datapad and recorded the data precisely. He quickly prepared a map that graphically represented the route the pair would take to reach their targets. Pierce refused to be impressed at the officer's blatant skill. He should stay here and run the damn equipment while Pierce participated in the fighting, rather.

All Pierce did, though, was assure the Sith. "Hit enough and snag the transponders. I'll figure out where they're going. Should zero in on General Frelka."

"Very well, Lieutenant. Maintain your commlink for my contact." The Sith raised her chin briefly towards the Imperial and the two began walking out of the post.

Pierce watched them go, his gaze glued to the swaying hips of the Sith's sweet ass. Not even Hurdenn's ridiculuous complaints about "coddling Sith who thought overmuch of themselves" ruined Pierce's stimulation and excitement as he regarded the mission. That was a woman who created wars and that men fought wars over. Pierce wanted to be a part of it.

* * *

"I don't like him," Quinn grumbled to Lusiel as they emerged from the post into the dense humid air of Taris. Both of them coughed, briefly, at the smell emanating from nearby noxious pools. Lusiel only shrugged.

"He seems competent enough." Lusiel said.

"Of brute force, possibly. There's little else I imagine that he's capable of." Quinn sneered.

"Well, brute force does have its uses on occasion. We'll just have to ensure we use this one appropriately." Lusiel was barely concerned. Pierce had struck her as an efficient soldier. She didn't truly disparage soldiers, worked rather to ensure they remained up and alive to fight again. As Lusiel saw it, it was the Imperial soldier who provided a backbone to the Empire's dogged strides towards more power.

Quinn just bit back his criticism, still irritated. Lusiel shook her head at him in confusion, moving towards the speeders they'd transported to the site by shuttle. Vette was balanced on one of them, chirping some sort of song in response to the sounds coming from the nearby forests. Quinn watched as they began speaking, Lusiel giving Vette careful instructions for the time she and Quinn would be away from the base camp.

Quinn snorted. The next time he noticed Pierce shifting his legs to adjust his erection while in Lusiel's presence, he'd just shoot the bastard's balls off. Problem solved.


	57. Chapter 56

It was blistering hot the further down into the mine Lusiel and Quinn moved. Which, considering how humid Taris was so normally, said a lot. Lusiel could feel trickles of sweat running down her spine as she leaned over the side of the elevator to look at the ground below.

"My lord, please step away from the edge," Quinn implored. Lusiel looked over at him, her brow raised.

"I still find it hard to believe you're bothered riding on an elevator. You pilot a starship on a routine basis, after all."

Quinn looked away. "I once saw a fellow crushed underneath one. Took only half his body. He was screaming in agony when I arrived to provide medical care. The best I could do was mercifully hasten his demise."

Lusiel nodded, stepping back from the edge of the elevator to stand next to Quinn squarely in the center. She remained quiet until the platform reached the ground and they both scrambled off of it. Then she remarked, smiling at him, "Well, the elevator gremlins were foiled once again, Quinn."

Quinn actually laughed, even if softly.

Down here, the mine was illuminated by some sort of orange-tinted lighting, casting everything into the strangest shadows. Lusiel finally just kept her lightsaber pulled, after thinking several times she saw movement when there was nothing actually present. She began to wonder after a time if there were some sort of ghostly presences in the tunnels they passed through. Not that the thought caused her pause, either.

"What exactly does it appear they're mining, do you think?" Lusiel peered briefly into one of the crates they were passing. Quinn passed his scanner over the material inside the crate and frowned down at the resulting data.

"It seems to be ordinary rock and dust, my lord. I can't determine what to make of it, actually. The effort seems futile, if it's wealth the Republic is after, here."

Lusiel shook her head, bewildered. "I doubt the Republic's War Trust generals would be interested in mere rocks."

They finally came to a doorway leading into a rather extensive cavern. The miners had apparently gathered together, there. They huddled in a sorry heap of men towards the rear of the place, looking to Lusiel like nothing more pathetic than a herd of sheep. Some of them were even clinging together. A number of soldiers stood in a line in front of them.

"Give off, you Imperial bastards! Come any closer and you're dead!" The military man shouting over at them didn't even tremble as he spoke.

"Quinn, I think he actually believes he can accomplish such a feat." Lusiel muttered.

"I believe you're right, my lord."

Lusiel extended her lightsaber, heard the gasps from several of the soldiers, along with muttered exclamations, "It's a Sith!" The leader remained firm, however, as he shouted angrily, "Don't think you can intimidate us!"

Lusiel shook her head as she made her first force leap into the line of soldiers. Screams resounded through the space, most of them from the miners who watched as the Sith moved cleanly down the line of soldiers, moving like a cutting machine through the men so that they fell in almost mechanical precision to either side of her. Once the soldiers were dead, Quinn trotted forward, touching Lusiel's shoulder briefly as he scanned her for injuries.

The mine's foreman was grunting at them, even as his men whimpered loudly behind him. "Hey, we're just miners. Contracted miners, at that. There's no need to hurt any of us!"

Lusiel interrupted him. "Where is General Frelka?"

"He's the overseer but he ain't exactly hands-on. Hasn't been by in weeks. You gonna kill him, too?" He babbled at her.

She raised her eyebrow, inquiringly. "Why are you so curious? Do you have some issue with the general?"

"No, no! Not looking for any trouble, here. Republic don't pay me enough to get in your way, believe me. Hey, if I hit the silent alarm, Frelka'll come with his personal guard. If that's what you really want, I'll do it."

Lusiel waved at him. "That's what I want."

"Fine," the man nodded back at one of the sheep trembling behind him. "Hit the alarm."

Lusiel stood watching as one of the scared creatures scrambled to a panel and keyed in a sequence of numbers. She looked back at the foreman only after he begged again to know if she was going to kill them. Lusiel sighed. "How long will this take?"

"Could be a while. He's pretty far away and transportation on Taris can be tricky. Why, does that mean you'll kill us?" Some of the miners cried out pitifully.

Lusiel rolled her eyes. "Just shut up." She moved off and away from the men, stepping over the dead soldiers. Quinn followed her, although he kept a closer eye on the miners. Desperate men could act stupidly in certain circumstances. But the miners remained quiet in their bunch up against the back wall and Quinn finally leaned back against one of the mining machines to relax, watching them.

Lusiel settled in place next to him, meditating quietly, her eyes closed. Quinn enjoyed it when she meditated that way, as he was able to watch her in quiet contemplation. It was definitely one of his favorite pasttimes. So he did, glancing at the miners intermittently.

"I love the way your gaze feels against my skin, Malavai." Lusiel spoke quietly to her captain.

"I'll make a note of that. Should definitely give it to you more often," he replied.

Lusiel chuckled, her back turned to the miners. "By all means."

The foreman was correct. General Frelka apparently dragged his sorry feet to the mine in order to save the men. By the time he finally appeared, even the miners were more angry than afraid. Lusiel watched the general approach, along with a rather minor contingent of personal guards who ringed him solidly.

The general appeared to be a compact figure, his hair greying around a strong, firm face. His men moved much more professionally than the soldiers she'd killed earlier, too. Then General Frelka began speaking and it was all Lusiel could do not to burst out laughing. Frelka's voice had a nasal quality to it, making it sound far more delicate and slight than his figure appeared. It was highly amusing to listen to him threaten her, Lusiel thought.

"Sith, your incursion here violates the spirit of the Treaty of Coruscant. We have you dead to rights. Surrender!" Frelka actually tried sounding firm and significant. Lusiel silently applauded his effort. Golf clap, she thought.

"Do I look like I have some reverence for the Treaty of Coruscant?" Lusiel cocked her head to the side, looking at the general.

"That explains your clumsiness coming here, then. It's unfortunate you've discovered our plans but no matter. The wheels are already in motion. Our new technology will deliver arms superiority to the Republic. And I'm ready to give my life in defense of this station." Frelka announced.

Lusiel was frankly confused. "You plan to get arms superiority from a pile of rocks? I'm all ears to hear you explain."

"You mean you don't know? This is too rich!" Frelka raised his voice as high, apparently, as it could go. "Men, we can't let this Sith reveal our operation. Kill her!"

The soldier directly to the general's left immediately turned and fired, his blaster shot catching Lusiel against the shoulder in a blaze of pained distress. She hissed back at him, angrily. Behind her, she could hear Quinn shouting a curse, very uncharacteristically of him. But Lusiel was already leaping, the force of her jump carrying her in a straight deadly onward momentum. Her lightsaber met him dead center, sliding through skin and muscle until it extended back and out of his spine. The man screamed once, piteously, as he died.

Lusiel yanked her saber free and turned, leaning into her step, thrilling to rise of the song inside of her. She hummed slightly as she swung and bent forward and around the oncoming soldiers, her red blade melodic in the cavern. The song echoed off the walls, rang down onto them from the roof above. Men screamed, one after another, dying simply, easily. Dimly, Lusiel was aware of miners chasing each other out of the doors, running to escape the onslaught.

General Frelka growled at Lusiel, his eyes glittering in a rage-filled face. He swung the butt of his rifle against her, trying to strike her head and bring her to her knees. But Lusiel was already kneeling, bringing her lightsaber up and straight into Frelka's wide chest. The general screamed shrilly, actually reaching out to grab the lightsaber that impaled him, a final desperate attempt to pull it from his body. But his hands were left to burn against the edge of the blade. They flamed briefly as Frelka screamed out yet again.

Lusiel retracted her lightsaber, watched impassively as the general fell down at her feet. Frelka gasped, "Help me."

"Give me the computer's command codes and I shall." Lusiel retorted.

"In … my left side belt pouch. Take them. Now … help me!"

"No fear, general. I'll stop your pain." Lusiel's blade sang one last time in Frelka's ear.

* * *

**Brief interjection, here. I played SWTOR extensively during the Beta, from October all the way through to the game's release. At the time, there was a regular glitch that had companions refrain from climbing onto the elevator with your character. They'd perch there on the end of the platform and just watch your character go all the way down. The glitch continued for a while after the game's release, although sometimes players would report that their companion who did get on the elevator just randomly keeled over dead.**

**I reported the issue several times in Beta, always describing it by saying, "I think my companion is scared to get on the elevator." When people told me their companions were dying on the elevators I laughed and said that the developers were surely messing with players who'd joked about their companions being afraid of the things.**

**So here I opted to include a brief mention of the "elevator boss" that seems to get every one of us playing the game at least once or twice, lol.**


	58. Chapter 57

Pierce clenched his fist as Moff Hurdenn barked at him over the commlink. "You will do as you're told, Lieutenant. Nor do I appreciate your argument in this regard. Stand down as my men engage the enemy!" The man's image twinked out.

"Whatcha think, Pierce? Yer Sith gonna be pleased?" The rough soldier next to him growled as they each crouched down in cover behind one of Taris' ruins.

"Hardly." Pierce grumbled an answer back at him, as bursts of blaster shots and men shouting in obvious battle began to sound through area. "She was pretty adamant she was lookin' to find General Durant. Killing off his men won't help that along."

Pierce reached for his commlink, fairly certain the Sith would want to know what was going on. The men of his black ops unit settled in around him, several keeping an eye on the fighting and all pretending they weren't listening in for the Sith's response.

"Ah … yea." One of the men muttered as the image of the attractive Sith came into view. Pierce regarded her for a moment, himself.

The woman was sitting against a shattered wall, focused on her commlink. Her robe and armor had been pulled back and away from her shoulder, leaving an expanse of her skin exposed there. Pierce could make out what appeared to be a wound caused by a well-placed blaster shot, some bits of blood oozing out from a burned hole. The Imperial was crouched next to her, working deftly at easing the damage.

Damn, Pierce thought. Technnical expert and a medic, to boot. Multi-talented little bastard. No wonder the Sith kept him around. Too bad it was only her shoulder he could see, Pierce thought then. Bet the officer had seen more than that, if she routinely used him for doctoring. Lucky son of a bitch.

"Lieutenant, General Frelka is dead and I have managed to locate General Minst. I'll be moving to intercept him momentarily." Lusiel informed him. A small medical droid began dancing next to her shoulder, making little clicking sounds as it sprayed kolto across the wound. The captain said something, then, that Pierce couldn't make out. "Yes, Quinn, of course. I did say 'momentarily' anyway. I'll eat first."

It looked like an old argument to Pierce, as the Sith rolled her eyes. "Excellent news, m'lord. I got some of my own. Scout report. The battalion of War Trust General Durant is on the move. Odds are he's fortifying his position. Some of the men from my black ops unit are back. We could have discreetly followed the battalion to find the general." Pierce reported.

Lusiel frowned back at him. "Why do I sense a 'but' in your statement, Lieutenant?"

"Moff Hurdenn sent a platoon instead. He grounded me and my boys. His forces are engaging General Durant's as we speak. By the time he's done, they'll be destroyed and we won't have discovered where the general is located."

Her lips pursed. Pierce could tell she wasn't pleased. "Summon Hurdenn into this conversation. I'll address him." Lusiel spoke firmly.

"M'lord." Pierce responded. He dutifully patched in to Moff Hurdenn's commlink channel but remained in link, as well. She certainly didn't tell him to go away. And Pierce wanted to hear the Moff put into place by a superior.

Moff Hurdenn's image came into view. He was quite obviously gloating. "Ah, there you are. I see Lieutenant Pierce has already hailed you. I was hoping to do it myself. Can I assume Lieutenant Pierce has updated you? Thanks to me, General Durant's battalion will not be joining him, wherever he is." He smiled proudly.

The Sith's jaw went tight. She spoke firmly. "My hunt for the War Trust is complex, Moff. In the future, clear such actions with me, first. Now withdraw and allow Lieutenant Pierce and his men to scour for General Durant's headquarters. Understood?"

Hurdenn looked at her for a long moment, taking on a dejected air. "Yes, well. Of course. I'll make it so immediately. My lord."

Pierce heard several mumbles of approval coming from the men around him as the Moff was chastised. He assured the Sith, "We'll get something on Durant. I swear it. Good luck with General Minst."

She nodded, and Pierce watched as her image disappeared. One of the men looked over at him. "That was the littlest and just about prettiest Sith I've ever seen. But she damn sure seems to know how to deal with a Moff, doesn't she?"

Pierce grunted. "Seems a fine one, yea."


	59. Chapter 58

Red lights were flashing along the walls of the corridors Lusiel and Quinn raced through, while alarms blared loudly overhead. "Hurry, Quinn, dammit!" Lusiel pressed them both, pulling Quinn, compelling them along using the force, so that they moved faster. But Quinn could not possibly maintain such a speed. He stumbled just as they reached the vault, hitting the security panel harshly, only barely preventing himself from being seriously injured by tucking into the fall and catching himself with his right shoulder.

Lusiel cursed as she watched him fall. "Minst is a dead man. Get us into the vault quickly, Quinn."

"Yes, my lord!" Quinn yanked himself up, working rapidly at the security panel. Lusiel hummed approvingly as the computer intoned, "Vault code sequence arming … Vault code sequence initiated …" She rocked back onto her heels, scanning the corridor behind them. The sixty second warning sounded just as Lusiel observed several Republic troopers moving out from a nearby doorway to confront them.

"The imposter's estimate better be right," Quinn was saying, referring to the pitiful Rodian who'd died holding the secured vault's codes in his little green hands. "We have less than a minute."

"I'm quite certain you can get us in there, captain. Stay focused." Lusiel activated her lightsaber even as she spoke. "This will take only a moment."

"Of course, my lord."

Lusiel's force leap crushed the neck of the first trooper. He didn't even manage a scream before he died. Her lightsaber lashed out, slicing across the neck of another soldier, just under the rim of his helmet into the tender flesh between that and his breastplate. He gurgled a heavy cry, falling even as Lusiel spun around behind him, avoiding the blaster bolt the last trooper managed to get off, hitting his dying compatriot rather than the Sith he was aiming at. Lusiel flung her lightsaber at him, watching it penetrate his chest in a single steady motion, heard the man yelp a final death cry. Then she yanked back at the lightsaber, force-pulling it back into her hand.

Lusiel returned to Quinn's side, eyeing the flashing red light above the vault door, just as the computer-generated self-destruct recited, "Ten seconds to self-destruct." Lusiel glanced at Quinn, quipped. "Well, if there's anything we needed to say before the end, now would be the time, I suppose."

Quinn grunted back at her, didn't look up from his effort at the panel. "I believe you know I love you, Lusiel."

The door to the vault slammed open with a mighty bang. Lusiel jumped, grabbing Quinn's arm, sailing through the entrance into the vault. She heard another damn Rodian voice screaming, "Shut the door! Hurry!" Lusiel glanced behind her from where she knelt on the floor, saw the explosion starting at the end of the corridor, the fire leaping across the tunnel and racing towards the vault. Then the door slammed shut again.

"Stupid Sith! You could have killed us all with that sort of reckless stunt!" General Minst was almost jumping up and down in bitterly agitated anger, waving a green hand at them while his antennae twitched atop his head. A staid looking human officer next to him leaned wearily back against the table near the back of the bunker, near dropping the datapad controller he'd used to close the door to the vault again.

Lusiel thundered to her feet, not even looking at Quinn as he pulled himself back up. She glared at the Republic general. "I am going to enjoy this."

"Hah! You'll get nothing by killing me. The reactor explosion destroyed all evidence of Project Siantide. You'll never be able to duplicate it." Minst laughed at Lusiel.

"You delude yourself thinking I came here to try."

"What, you don't want access to a project capable of creating new and boundless energy? Ironic, isn't it, that the Empire's original bombardment of this planet is what made Siantide possible, considering it's the remains of Taris' original inhabitants we're mining." Minst paced back and forth. "You'd be a fool not to want such power."

Lusiel shook her head at the Rodian, her dark eyes glittering angrily at him. "At this moment, the only thing I want is your green head."

"What? No!" General Minst tried jumping behind his assistant, but the man pushed him away disgustedly. The struggle between the two proved futile. Quinn's shot caught the general's assistant in the face. Quinn didn't smile as the man's head just disappeared. Lusiel stalked the general, listening to him gibber as she prodded him with her lightsaber. She chased him around the table twice before finally tiring of the game and leapt on top of the table to catch him with her lightsaber and send him spinning to the floor in a dead heap.

"Little bastard!" Lusiel sneered at the corpse, jumping down. She considered kicking it but it wouldn't really help. She felt agitated, angry, the near death of not only herself but Quinn, too, offending every one of her sensibilities. She literally quivered, standing there. She spun around to face Quinn, prepared to say something sure to be stupid and absurd, but she caught sight of his gaze and stopped.

Quinn's eyes were dark as he looked at her, shining with the same turmoil burning through her. His hands were clenched into fists as he ran his gaze down her frame heatedly. She watched as a bead of sweat ran down the side of his jaw, fell over onto his shoulder. He shifted, so that the cords of his neck tautened briefly. She admired the turn of his head, the way his body stiffened and tensed, wanted suddenly to taste him.

"Were you serious?" Lusiel asked suddenly, quietly, although the question echoed in the vaulted bunker. She could just make out the sound of the fire blazing on the other side of the door, thought wildly how it complimented the growing inferno she was feeling.

Quinn's eyes shot back up to her face. "I'm rarely anything but serious." He stepped forward, gripped her under her arms to lift her up and onto the large table behind her. Lusiel inhaled, hard. She watched Quinn's face, lifted her arms out of the way as he worked rapidly to unfasten the buckles holding her breastplate in place. He pulled and yanked at her clothes and armor, moving fast, almost as fast as he had at the panel outside the door.

He reached up, held her head between his hands, lowered his mouth to take hers. His tongue shot between her lips and swept the interior of her mouth, tasted her wildly. Lusiel moaned into him, arching up against his still-clothed chest, rubbed her naked breasts against him, thrilled to the rough sensation on her nipples. He pulled from her mouth, ran his lips across her jaw, nipping at her tender skin. He whispered into her ear, "I'm going to mark you."

Lusiel leaned her head aside, moaned, "Yes." She keened as Quinn's lips drifted down to her neck, where he started nibbling and biting her tenderly, suckling intermittently, until a strong, vivid bruise enlivened the flesh there. She heard him grunt in satisfaction, before he continued sliding his mouth down, leaving small bruises in a vivid track to her breast. He gripped her nipple inbetween his teeth, held it softly there, flicking it with his tongue. Lusiel sobbed, her head thrown back, "Please."

He continued drawing on her breast but she felt him reaching down between them, heard the rasp of the fingers against his pants' fastenings. "Yes," she whispered, as she felt his naked groin against her own, finally. He entered her fast and hard, groaned as he felt himself slide inside of her as deep as he could go. He leaned back, looking down at her breast and smiled when he saw the bruise against the pale pink of her aerola.

Lusiel grabbed at his coat, held onto it strongly as he started thrusting into her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, gripped him strongly as she raised her hips rhythmically to meet his hard thrusts. The table underneath them creaked in time to their movements. It was a wild ride and it was fast. He held her hips in place as he felt her tightening around him, her inner muscles gripping at his cock, felt the satisfaction rising along the length of his spine. It burst upon them, and Lusiel buried her face against his chest, cried his name. Quinn shook against her, his head leaning forward as he pressed his lips against the top of her head.

Lusiel whimpered, "Say it again."

"I love you."

She rested against him, quiet, listening as the fire burned outside and against the door. She said, softly, "I'm glad."


	60. Chapter 59

"What the heck are you doing this time, Jaesa?" Vette found the Sith apprentice kneeling next to one of the venomous pools that surrounded the Imperial garrison. The green goo that composed the toxic lake nearly glowed with lethal promise. Vette shuddered just imaginging Jaesa tumbling into the mess. Taris was so not her favorite planet. "If you fall in, I am so not pulling your ass back out, you know."

Jaesa only laughed. She pulled out what looked like a vial. "I'm going to retrieve a sample. It occurred to me this stuff is probably quite poisonous. But I'm not sure what the effects would truly be. So I want to test it."

"Test it? How?" Possibilities swarmed Vette's imagination. Few of them were even vaguely pleasant.

"I was thinking one of the random soldiers in there would make a good test subject."

Vette was horrified. "You'd make one of them drink that stuff?"

"Oh, I was just going to drop a small sample into a random beverage, actually. Did you know there's a cantina downstairs?" Jaesa smirked at the Twi'lek.

"You can't do that!" Vette shook her head. Why is it she was the one left to try and handle this sort of nonsense, she wondered dazedly.

"Why not? I'm curious."

"What you are is just … wrong. Off." Vette shook her head, mumbled under breath, "Crazy-ass."

"I am not!" Jaesa's eyes flashed red. But Vette only shrugged.

"Hey, if the shoe fits. You do realize the craziest people are the ones who insist it's just not possible, right?"

Jaesa stomped her foot. "How dare you!"

Vette wagged a small blue finger at her. "You know Lord Lusiel wouldn't approve of you dropping poisons into random people's drinks. Because it's insane! And she despises insanity!"

"Hah, like you understand the Sith well enough to judge someone like my master!"

"Doesn't take any incredible deductive reasoning. I leave that bullshit to Quinn. But if every crazy person Lord Lusiel comes into contact with ends up dead or broken, I'm going to assume she really doesn't like crazy."

Jaesa stopped, glaring.

"Your problem, Jaesa, is you don't have any direction. You're just floundering around trying to act like what you still fool yourself into believing Sith are. Monsters. Crazy lunatic killers." Vette rolled her eyes.

"Lord Lusiel _is_ a killer!"

"What she has that you don't is purpose, Jaesa! She knows what she's doing and everything she does has a reason and a design. She's dark as dark can be but her darkness is focused. That's what makes her better than you!"

Jaesa cocked her head, regarded Vette. "You admire her."

"Oh, no. Don't even try to shift this around onto me. I'm not looking to poke into any pools of green shit around here, anyway. Pull your head out of your ass, Jaesa. You're embarrassing all of us." Vette flounced away, her lekku bouncing agitadedly as she went.

Jaesa slumped onto a nearby crate, glaring out over the green waste that composed the toxic lake. She really did hate that Twi'lek sometimes.


	61. Chapter 60

Pierce hissed sharply at the stinging sensation of a blaster bolt slicing against his hip. He returned the fire, watched with gruff satisfaction as the Republic trooper caught his own bolt squarely in the chest and fell hard to the ground.

_"We're taking fire, outnumbered. Should be able to hold them off long enough for you to break through but that's it." He'd told her.  
"I will not accept failure, Lieutenant," she'd responded._

As he looked down the barrel of his blaster into the eyes of yet another Republic flunkie determined to die, Pierce still thought that the Sith was worth it. He had never known such a compelling creature. If it took him killing another thousand of these fools, so be it. Strength like that, power like that – hell, that's worth dying for, he believed. That's why he'd sworn it.

_"We'll do what we can. Knock out those defense systems. We'll hold the position for you. Or, worst case, our bodies will slow down their charge. Proud to have served, my lord."_

The damn Republic general called Durant was dug into a fortified camp just up ahead. It was the very last of Durant's battalion that fought Pierce and his men, now. Most of the bodies litering the ground all around Pierce, in fact, wore Republic uniforms. He'd pressed them hard, indeed. But more and more of his own men were falling to join the Republic soldiers they'd been fighting, now. The Imperials were being worn down, whittled away. There was only so much that even the best soldiers could withstand. Very soon, they'd not be standing anymore.

_"Pierce here. They flushed us out. We're on the move. Lost a third of my men but we're still hitting them ten-to-one. Still to many. I'll try to rally the men. Hold the enemy off as long as I can. Pierce out."_

Pierce could feel blood trickling down his leg. One of his men grunted and collapsed to the ground at his feet, swearing harshly, "Finish the damn bastards, finish 'em!" Pierce heard a cheer go up through what was left of the Imperial line, as his boys shouted a rallying cry hearing the man's dying words. They fought harder than they'd ever fought, blaster rifles blazing and blades flashing in the dying light of the afternoon. The rewarding cries of dying republic soldiers filled the air.

But the push-back was short-lived.

_"My lord, the enemy is regrouping. I'm down to three men, against about three hundred. Hoped we could take out a whole battalion. Looks like we'll come up short, though. When you see him, tell … Durant …"_

Pierce caught his last men as he went down, the both of them falling to their knees, bleeding. He watched the dying light in his man's eyes, looked around groggily. They were all gone, he was the last. He breathed out, weary, tired. He glanced over, saw some Republic soldiers moving among the bodies, picking at the remains and moving them to the side of the field. He groaned under his breath, reached for a blaster.

Then he heard the lightsaber singing, the melody filling the air in a crescendo, creating a vivid masterpierce of screams and dying.

Pierce smiled. She'd come.


	62. Chapter 61

"Pay attention to the captain, Lieutenant. His tactical skills are unmatched." Lusiel waved a hand towards Quinn, neverminding the way Pierce clenched his jaw. She shared a look with Quinn, rather.

Of course he understood. It's why Quinn didn't look towards the holoterminal where the image of Darth Baras loomed over them all. Baras wouldn't tolerate failure. He'd had Moff Hurdenn give his entire army into Lusiel's direction. Should the battle end in anything but complete and utter victory, she would be the one to pay the price for the failure. So Lusiel would entrust no one else but Quinn to design the strategy in the upcoming confrontation.

"_I can do this, I won't let you down_." Quinn's look assured her.  
"_I know_." Lusiel nodded.

Quinn had pored over the maps describing Admiral Faraire's defenses and fortifications. Now, he offered them his analysis. "My lord, there are ways to circumvent Admiral Faraire's numerical advantage in the upcoming battle. We will have to coordinate three simultaneous strikes. One will destroy the base's power station. Another will sabotage its spaceport force field to thwart any reinforcements, and the last will force the conscripted forces of Faraire's forces to flee."

Above them, Baras intoned, abruptly. "I don't need to hear the details. Quinn will coordinate from the base and you will lead the front line offensive, apprentice. Beyond that, decide how to assign your men. Baras out."

Lusiel regarded her people once Baras' image disappeared. They ringed her solidly, a steady group of able skill, one that needed forming in precisioned motions designed to annihilate the Republic's lines. She considered them carefully.

Pierce was adamant, of course. Lusiel remembered finding him kneeling among the shattered remnants of Republic and Imperial troops, splattered with blood and sighing in his own pain. Even then, he'd been determined in his support of her. Now, he stepped forward, thumbing his chest, bold as ever. A worthy soldier, she thought. "I'm the best choice for front line work. You need a soldier," Pierce declared.

"I disagree." Quinn cocked his head to the side. He was deliberate as he addressed Lusiel. "If the frontal assault isn't handled correctly, your route into the command center will be clogged with run-over battlefield soldiers. In my opinion, Jaesa should accompany you. She can use her power to see into the hearts of the enemy and identify the insecure ranks."

Pierce watched Lusiel turn to regard her apprentice appraisingly, obviously considering. She was so small that Pierce towered over her, so that he looked down at her. Her face was canted away from him, her jaw thrust out, and he saw her neck was bruised, the skin darkened from just under her ear down to the soft curve where her neck met her shoulder. Pierce clenched his fists.

Lusiel nodded after a moment. "Yes, you're right, captain. Jaesa, you'll accompany me." Jaesa raised her chin, palpably radiated an excited and nervous energy. Lusiel almost smiled, understanding. Jaesa had long suffered the Jedi stifling her strengths and skills. Her eagerness to demonstrate herself, to loose her talents on their enemies, was obvious.

"Very good, my lord." Quinn said. "That leaves Pierce and Vette to handle the power station demolition and spaceport sabotage. If the traps and mines aren't disabled in time, you'll be under constant turret fire inside the Republic base." He shot each one of them quick glances. Vette was grinning at him, leaning back against a console as she listened. But Pierce didn't look at him. He appeared displeased as he watched Lusiel, rather.

Lusiel looked back at Pierce. "Lieutenant, tell me what you think. I know you wanted to be with me in the front. But since that's not possible, which position of these two is best suited to your talents?"

Pierce puffed his chest out, blatantly pleased she was looking to him for insight. She knew what he was capable of, knew he was a damn good soldier. And he didn't have to fuck her to gain her approval, either. "I know how the Republic systems work. I can sabotage their spaceport, my lord."

Vette stepped up, too. "And I can dismantle the traps and mines at the power station with my eyes closed. But don't worry, my lord. I'll keep one open anyway."

Quinn was still cautious, pointed out the danger of Faraire's reinforcements getting past Pierce. But Pierce only snorted. Loudly. "Won't be an issue." Quinn inclined his head towards the lieutenant.

"Very well. Let's get this war started, shall we?" Lusiel tossed her shoulders back, stepping forward solidly. She looked around at her people, nodding slightly. "Today, we fight as one. I believe in every one of you. So join me in victory!"

Vette trilled a small cheer and Jaesa smiled as she stepped forward to stand aside Lusiel. Pierce eyed the Willsaam girl, noted her extraordinary youth. The two women seemed such slight, delicate creatures. Like those deadly plants that shot poisonous darts at you, he supposed. Pretty enough but deadly as Hell.

Quinn nodded. "Good luck, my lord. I'll be coordinating the attacks via holo."

"Don't worry, captain. The real soldiers have got this one," Pierce slapped his hands together, sneering. But Quinn ignored him. He watched Lusiel moving towards the doorway, with Jaesa in step. Lusiel glanced back at him just once.

"_Be careful_."  
"_I'll be back_."

It was the first time since Balmorra they'd fought apart from each other.

* * *

"What's got your panties in a twist, lieutenant?" Vette was excitedly bouncing along next to Pierce as they left Hurdenn's command post.

Pierce spoke without really thinking, as he watched Lusiel up ahead, walking firmly off into the darkness of the early morning towards Faraire's compound. Jaesa was striding alongside her, while a contingent of soldiers fell into place around them.

"That damn captain won command of this operation because he's fucking her," Pierce scoffed.

Vette huffed, grabbed at Pierce's arm. He stopped abruptly, glared down at her. The Twi'lek, though, was looking around intently, trying to see if anyone had heard the man's idiotic comment. Then she frowned up at Pierce, pulled at him, directing him off and away from the gathering troops.

"You're an Imperial! So when exactly did you forget how dangerous it is to question a Sith's judgement?" Vette scowled.

Pierce folded his arms across his broad chest, glowering at Vette. It wasn't the first nor even the most reckless thing he'd ever done. Wouldn't be the last, either, Pierce thought.

"Forget I asked." Vette's long blue lekku quivered as she shook her head at him disgustedly. "Look, the first time I saw Lord Lusiel she was still a mere student, an acolyte on Korriban. Hadn't even been given the title of apprentice, in fact. They tested her by giving her the responsibility of judging three separate prisoners, and I was there, watched her do it. I remember thinking she'd surely just kill them outright, cause that's what so many Sith would do. Certainly easy enough. One, two, three – all dead, so nothing to worry about, right?"

Pierce glowered, refused to admit he was interested in what Vette was telling him.

"The first was a hunter who took out a contract, only to discover it was an Imperial officer. She didn't even manage to kill him before she was caught. Just kept saying she didn't know he was an Imperial when she took the job." Vette looked up at Pierce, who nodded. "Lord Lusiel didn't kill her but she didn't let her go, either. Sent her off to Imperial Intelligence, to be trained as an assassin, in fact."

Vette inhaled. "The second was an aging Sith warrior who's mistake had cost the lives of hundreds of Imperials. He didn't even ask for mercy. Wanted just to hold a blade so he could die honorably in battle. Lord Lusiel refused, slaughtered him where he stood. Then she told the jailor who mocked the man's corpse he should show more respect to a warrior who'd loyally served the Empire."

By now, Pierce was fascinated. He lowered his head in rapt silence as Vette finished the story.

"The last was some pitiful Bith who'd apparently been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, framed for a theft he'd not actually committed and tortured several times by the time Lord Lusiel judged him. She didn't let him go, though it seemed obvious enough he was innocent. Sent him off for more questioning, rather. Said it was important to figure out why he'd been framed and by whom."

Vette rocked back on her heels, remembering. "I was blown away. Couldn't really wrap my head around her for a while. I remember the jailor making some comment about how 'that Sith is gonna rule before she's done'. Probably the first and only smart thing that jackass ever said. But I'll tell you this, now, lieutenant." Vette looked around once again, then looked back up at Pierce again.

"I have no doubt that Lord Lusiel chooses carefully what roles people play in her life. _Nothing_ she does is without careful reason. So I have no doubt she gives Quinn charge because he's damn well capable of being in charge. I trust him with my life because _she_ trusts him." Vette poked a small hard finger into Pierce's chest and he grunted, surprised. But Vette just shot him a gloating smirk.

"So? You ready to kick some Republic ass? Or would you rather worry some more about who's cock Lord Lusiel's been riding?"

Pierce gaped at Vette's back as she flounced away, absolutely certain of his answer.


	63. Chapter 62

Quinn worked methodically to disable the security codes that barred the door in front of him. A couple of the Imperial soldiers who'd accompanied him shifted restlessly next to him, their gazes constantly scanning the area around them for any possible Republic troopers moving to intercept them. Quinn appreciated their attention. All it took was one single Republic fool running frenziedly from the nearby battle and the game was up.

Moff Hurdenn clucked at him. "Hurry," he whispered. Quinn ignored him, concentrating, rather, on the security panel in front of him and trying not to worry about the sound of fighting coming from behind the door. His last communication with Lusiel had been brief, as she described her impending confrontation with Admiral Faraire. The explosions and shouts echoing out to where the Imperials were working made clear the confrontation had proved violent.

Vette, though, elbowed the Moff solidly, and he huffed out a small gasp. Pierce smirked at the man's surprise. The Twi'lek was very secure in her place as a servant to a powerful Sith lord who'd just won a tremendous battle. And she acted it - slave or not. Hurdenn could only glare at her, futilely aware he couldn't even smack her in retaliation.

The door began to swing open, revealing a long, narrow tunnel that lead into the Republic command post. The group entered the immediate confines of the space, before Quinn turned and directed the soldiers following them to create a defensive perimeter around the entry.

Vette said she'd remain with the soldiers. "Too much testosterone in there, no thanks!"

Quinn nodded at her. "Lord Lusiel was pleased with your efforts at the power station, Vette. She promised a reward."

Vette beamed. "Ahh, she doesn't have to do that. But I'll take her reward anyway." Then she glanced over at Pierce, grinning. "What about Lieutenant Pierce? Does he get any rewards?"

Quinn frowned. "She said he was obviously a great soldier. Her estimation of his capabilities proved correct, of course. Are we prepared to proceed, then?"

The men moved forward silently, with Quinn and Pierce in the lead. Pierce watched the captain as he scanned ahead through the dark space. Quinn moved precisely and certainly, following the sounds of feminine shouts and heavy thudding booms that could be some sort of cannon fire which came from up ahead.

"You don't know that Faraire'll use this tunnel to try and escape, captain. This entire effort could be a waste of time." Pierce said.

"You're correct, lieutenant. Faraire could be as recklessly stupid as any common soldier. I am doubtful of that, however. So we'll ensure his possible escape is blocked." Quinn motioned forward.

Pierce glared at him. "Are you calling me stupid, captain?"

"I believe I pointed out just a moment ago I agreed with Lord Lusiel's estimation of your capabilities as a great soldier, in fact. But if you feel you're stupid, I won't argue with you."

Behind them, Hurdenn muffled a small hoot of amusement. Pierce clenched his jaw, not sure who he was more angry with right then. He opted to ignore the both of them. Quinn was still striding forward forward, until he could see light spilling into the tunnel from the command post's interior. Then, finally, he heard her voice.

"You are beaten, general."

Faraire responded, desperately. "I can't believe it. All this work, all this death. For naught." Then there was a pause. "I wish I could sit around and discuss with you where I went wrong but a good leader always has an exit strategy –"

Pierce grunted at Quinn as they listened to the sounds of pattering boots running towards the tunnel where they were just beginning to exit. "I really don't like you, captain. Just wantcha to know that." Quinn hardly cared, so he just shrugged. And, suddenly, Faraire stumbled around the corner, coming face to face with the barrel of Pierce's blaster.

The general gasped, stumbling backwards. The Imperials continued moving into the room, Pierce's blaster still raised up threateningly. Quinn remarked, sardonically, "Not so fast, general. I thought you might run." He glanced around the space quickly, noted the wreckage of an immense war droid left smoking in the center of the room and Jaesa standing next to it.

Then Lusiel stepped forward, into Quinn's line of sight. He scanned her quickly, but she was obviously unscathed. She smiled at him and he felt the satisfaction of it settle into his senses. "I can always count on you, Quinn."

Faraire began a new gambit, then, utterly desperate. "I surrender. I expect to be accorded the treatment promised prisoners in the Treaty of Coruscant."

Lusiel stared at him in some small amazement. "But you're no prisoner, Faraire. You're my victim, rather."

The Imperials gathered around the general as he began choking and gasping against Lusiel's force hold. She left him dangling in her grasp for several long moments. He wheezed, whining. The man's bladder released just as he collapsed to the floor on his hands and knees. Only then did Lusiel jerk her hand into a fist, neatly snapping the general's neck. They all watched impassively as the Republic general fell dead onto the floor at Lusiel's feet.

Pierce glanced down at the body. "Nice to see generals scream when they die, just like everyone else."

Moff Hurden stepped around the two men, nodding at Lusiel. "Congratulations, my lord. Your destruction of the War Trust represents an incredible victory. It is clear you are the future of the Empire. I hope you will count me as one of your closest allies."

Quinn shot his gaze towards Lusiel. She shrugged, coolly. "I may call upon you someday, Hurdenn. If I do, your unquestioned obedience will be expected."

"You may count on that, my lord. As a show of support, I've placed Lieutenant Pierce under your command. He will be an invaluable asset in your domination of the galaxy." Hurdenn bowed his head, respectfully.

"Works for me," Pierce said. "Done what I can here on Taris. Glad you're willing to let me go, Hurdenn."

"You're meant for greater things, lieutenant. With me, you will fulfill your destiny." Lusiel assured.

"You won't be disappointed, my lord."

Quinn stepped forward, stood next to Lusiel. "Fall in, lieutenant. I'll brief you on how things work here once we're back on the ship."

Pierce rolled his eyes. "Can't wait."


	64. Chapter 63

Jaesa sat still and silent in her pose in the lounge, apparently meditating. But she really watched the two men as they moved from room to room on the ship. She barely paid attention to Quinn's explanation of the ship's working, though. She was fascinated, in fact, with the burly lieutenant.

Pierce had been rough and unrefined when they'd gathered in Moff Hurdenn's command center. She'd been amused when he snapped and snarled at Quinn. Not that she really disliked Quinn, either. The masculine competitiveness between the two men simply tickled her. Quinn's stubborn sophistication clashed so spectacularly with Pierce's uncivilized coarseness. That, and Pierce was so different from the captain.

He was big. His chiseled face was strong-looking, robust and determined. Vette had mentioned he was wounded destroying an entire battalion of Republic soldiers in the course of her master's mission. Jaesa could easily picture the man standing tough and firm in front of such an onslaught. His coloring, even, matched the stormy nature of his personality, all fiery and red.

Jaesa pondered the uses and means to which she could put the lieutenant. He'd probably not be so easily broken as the poor sap of a soldier she'd met during their last visit to the fleet. Her master had been disappointed when she described the man's fate, too.

_"I think we were … together. Or I killed him. Or both, maybe. I can't really remember." Jaesa had said, confusedly.  
"Was he important? Was he valuable?" Lusiel asked.  
"Master? I don't know. Yes? Or maybe?"  
"Then you wasted what could've been an asset. You lacked control. Enough you aren't able to recall, today, what and whether the man could be used to some better advantage. A Sith who lacks control is weak, Jaesa. They are the ones most easily destroyed."_

Jaesa was certain Pierce was more hardy, resilient. His muscular shoulders and broad chest certainly seemed stronger, tougher than those of the little soldier she vaguely remembered hurting a lot. She should perhaps query her master first, though. Was it better to ask for forgiveness or permission, she pondered. She looked at Pierce again, the way his legs swelled against his armor. She sighed.

"Jaesa?" Quinn asked, noting she was aware and watching them. "Lieutenant, this is Jaesa Willsaam. She is Lord Lusiel's apprentice. They often train here in the lounge. It's necessary to traverse the space carefully during their sessions."

Jaesa rose to her feet. "Hello, lieutenant. Is that what I should call you? Or Pierce?"

Pierce nodded at the girl. She still appeared over-young to him. But he'd made careful note of her deadly skill, too. This was not a creature to take lightly. "I'll answer to either, my lord."

"Good. Then I'll call you Pierce." Jaesa turned and left the lounge, refused to glance back at the lieutenant. But she wanted to.

* * *

The mess was simple enough, a large center table with chairs gathered all around and counters and cooking devices lining the walls.

But the droid's inane chatter and outlandish garb made it clear the crew was hardly typical. Pierce watched Vette as she placed a tie around Toovee's metallic neck. It had yellow polka dots on it. He wondered where she'd found the thing.

"Where's the captain?" Pierce asked as he sat down at the table.

"Why? Are you trying to hide from him?" Vette didn't look up from her effort to fix Toovee's new tie.

"Yes." Pierce growled. His gruff response amused the Twi'lek and she laughed at him. He looked up when Jaesa ambled through the door.

Vette finally answered. "Quinn is checking on Lord Lusiel. I think she said something about her head hurting, so he took her to the med bay earlier."

"For a headache?" It seemed like overkill to Pierce.

Jaesa shook her head. "Master's headaches can be difficult. It's important we don't allow them to progress too far."

"It's because she doesn't eat right. Quinn's the only one who can manage to get her to sit still long enough to eat a good meal. But that last battle was hurried. I don't think he managed to get her to eat before she rushed off to fight Faraire." Vette plopped herself down into a chair. She waved at Toovee.

Pierce watched as the droid proceeded to place platters in the middle of the table. The food was tempting. Nerf sausages wrapped in hotcakes, topped with vweilu nuts and smeared with spice jelly, with Corellian potato sticks and mounder potato rice. He dug into the food eagerly.

Vette eyed him carefully. "You eat a lot. We'll have to increase food stores more than I'd imagined."

"He is rather large." Jaesa regarded Pierce with her weird yellow eyes. He looked back at her, swallowed the potato he was chewing on.

"Is that a problem?" Pierce asked.

"Not at all." Jaesa smiled.

Vette watched them from where she sat at the end of the table. She rolled her eyes. "Great. It's just you and me, Toovee."


	65. Chapter 64

The transmission was coded Imperial intelligence but Quinn was able to solve the algorithms that obscured the message. He wasn't certain who Lusiel's contact in Intelligence was – even the message he intercepted didn't include any names or images – but he felt disconcerted he hadn't already discerned her gathering of information and insights outside his consideration. What other sources did she rely upon, he wondered.

_"Your efforts on Taris are being remarked upon, here, with heavy praise. Good work. Did as you asked and looked into movements in the Fringe systems. You were right, the traffic out there indicates a power play in motion. Shouldn't be long before you're asked to go there personally, to take out what looks to be a Republic target. But be careful. Something does feel off about that one, although I wasn't able to substantiate your suspicions, no."_

_"Know you told me not to, by the way, but I still looked into your captain's background. His story checks out. Spent three years on Balmorra, just after being messed over royally by a certain Moff, recently listed as killed in action, ironically enough. Well done. His family history is as you described, as well, both father and mother deceased, no siblings. You have to tell me what you intend for him. Don't think I haven't noticed something's going on, there."_

_"Can't clarify my location at this time and don't know when I'll be in contact again. Make sure to respond to this message as soon as possible. Always watching out for you."_

The voice was male and conveyed a sense of real care and concern. Quinn felt a twinge of jealousy, thinking that Lusiel could be depending upon information provided by a former lover. She was quick to utilize whatever assets she could gain, anyway. But even if she had, it had little to do with the here and now, either, he thought pragmatically.

Besides. It didn't seem an overly romantic message. There was something about it that struck him as … familiar, without being lover-like. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Regardless, Quinn focused on the information the message described, particularly about the Fringe System activity. He knew that Baras' master, Darth Vengean, had said he would send his fleet to the Fringe System. The only Republic target he remembered being mentioned when they met in Baras' chambers involved an Admiral Monk. He toyed with what Lusiel could be suspecting in regards the man.

Quinn leaned back in his chair as he gazed out the window at the passing stars. He felt a rising pressure - a sense of foreboding. He had been careful in the reports he recorded and sent to Darth Baras, maintained them only to allay any apprehension the Sith lord may have felt compelled to act upon in regards to Lusiel. Quinn just wasn't certain his efforts were going to work for much longer.


	66. Chapter 65

"Don't you turn your back on me! You're going to answer for this!"

Lusiel turned around to face Moff Masken once again, incredulous. She quite simply had no words to offer in response to the man's temerity. Not that she blamed the man for his anger, the rage, that she felt washing over her force senses with blistering magnitude. If there was some possible way of soothing his upset, of making everything better or all right – well, Lusiel would've done something to help if she could, at least.

But there was nothing. She'd fought her way to the Moff's bridge, stepping over the bodies of his men along the way. She'd certainly saved some of them, too. But it would hardly make up for such horrible losses.

And it really was such an awful waste, she considered. Not at all how she'd act when she finally moved to destroy her own master. She'd suspected Baras was moving against Vengean, of course. She'd even pondered the chance the Republic's Admiral Monk was Baras' own man, as manipulated and controlled as any of the other gulls the Darth so solidly coerced. There was nothing for her to act upon, however, and there was no way, now, to explain any of it to Moff Masken without embittering him even more.

What should she have said, after all? "I'm sorry I didn't send you a message telling you your fleet was probably, maybe and possibly headed into a trap, good sir." It didn't necessarily have a good ring to it, she thought. Not without something solid to back it up, at least.

And, really. Darth Vengean should've been quicker to suspect Baras. What sort of Sith lord, especially one of such rank and experience, made such a drastic mistake? At least he would've been able to _do_ something other than mop up the mess afterwards. There really was a lesson in all of this, she decided. Deception and betrayal could come from the least likely of sources and just when you were most convinced it wouldn't happen, to boot.

She'd have to remember this. Maybe she'd have Quinn include it as a note in one of his reports.

She supposed she could say something to the Moff at the moment. Something pithy, perhaps. She could tell him such power plays weren't her style, that she much preferred a straight up confrontation, a blow by blow battle with the Sith she was determined to destroy. She could say she intended to kill Baras, herself, eventually. She could even say she was sorry for all of it.

But she didn't say anything. Lusiel just pulled her lightsaber out and faced the Moff who yelled towards his men, "Kill the Sith! Darth Vengean will reward us!" She only sighed as she let loose her blade's song and ended the Moff's torment, the lights of the battle blazing through the windows of the viewport behind him.

* * *

Lusiel had suspected there was no filthier, nastier planet than Nar Shaddaa. But she realized how wrong she was just as soon as the shuttle left her on Quesh. The sky was dark with gassy soot and muck. She'd been told it was poisonous, in fact, and been given medications and treatments that were designed to protect her from the crap. But it didn't really help, she thought, as she regarded one particularly tall, towering smokestack spewing some sort of noxious smoke into the yellow decayed-looking air.

Several soldiers suddenly trotted by her, breathing apparatus masking their faces. She shook her head after them. Poor chumps. She at least would be able to leave this place shortly.

Behind her, Quinn gave a short cough. She glanced back at him, admired the turn of his head as he considered the map he'd uploaded onto his datapad. Even in the dim glow of Quesh's sun through the swirling gas above, his features excited her. She smiled slightly.

Not surprisingly, it was Quinn who'd managed to discern some word describing where Admiral Monk had probably retreated on Quesh. One of the officers he had spoken to while they were still on the orbital station, above, had recently tracked a rather large number of ships bringing Republic troops to a nearby location on the planet, anyway. She had no doubt Quinn would figure out the best route to the place. Hopefully they could bypass all of the sludge, as well.

"What is it with Hutts and stinking planets?" Lusiel wondered aloud.

* * *

Quinn stood silently behind Lusiel as the Republic soldier collapsed dead at her feet, gurgling some final gasping breaths as he went. She was covered in slimy bits of blood, the bodies of dozens of Monk's soldiers dotting the path they'd followed to reach the doors in front of them. She stood there, breathing hard, as the door began to open.

He heard the gasps of the room's inhabitants. He imagined the darkly mesmerizing sight of Lusiel from that side of the door. She was the most beautiful thing in his world, was fast becoming his world. And he still believed he'd lose his breakfast if he saw her look at him the way she was looking at the men standing there, three of them, all garbed in Republic officers' uniforms.

The one wearing Admiral's insignia stepped forward, demanded, "What do you think you're doing? Is Baras trying to make things look good, give himself an alibi? You can tell him mission accomplished, then! You killed almost all of my men! Now back off!"

Quinn suddenly thought of Commander Rylon, back on Balmorra, what seemed like such a long time ago. The man's words echoed in his remembering, "_This is a bittersweet day. I served for the glory of the Empire. But the life of a spy is a slippery one. In essence, I had to become a Republic soldier. And I've done things against the Empire that sickened me_." He didn't believe any of these men felt as Rylon had, determined to die nobly for the Empire.

Too bad.

Quinn stepped closer to Lusiel, his blaster ready.

"Wait, he sent you here to kill us, didn't he? Why? My cover is intact! Over a decade since we defected, and we've served him all along. Why would he waste such valuable assets?" Monk was stunned.

"This is the eventual fate of every spy, Admiral." Lusiel responded, and Quinn's mind went white with the glaring thought of his own spying. She would hate him. Strangely enough, the thought of her killing him for spying wasn't half so bothersome as that. He'd rather die than have her hate him.

He saw Lusiel stiffen in front of him, realized he'd missed most of Monk's angry denunciations. And now the Admiral was calling for his officers to fight her. But Lusiel hesitated, standing there as the officers pulled up their rifles and aimed at her. Instead, she glanced back at Quinn, her eyes shining, and she smiled.

Then she force jumped, yanking her lightsaber in midair, the whine of its first melodic scream meeting the yelp of Monk's first officer. The song rose up into the confines of the room, as Lusiel stepped over the body of the officer and jabbed her lightsaber into the gut of the second man. He screamed against the fiery pain, reaching out towards Lusiel with bloody hands even as he died.

Lusiel spun to face Monk. But there wasn't a need. Even as the admiral was moving to a more defensive position, Quinn had stepped up behind him and put his blaster to the back of the man's head. His blood sprayed madly as the shot resounded, there was a wet splashing sort of sound, leaving Quinn soaked in red gore. He coughed as some of it landed on his face and mouth, yelled a vivid curse.

"Ah, Quinn. You continue to entertain me. How sweet." Lusiel laughed as he sputtered in disgust.

* * *

"What's wrong, Quinn?"

"Nothing at all, my lord."

Lusiel sighed as she glanced towards her captain sitting next to her on the shuttle. She'd felt his upset earlier. She was tempted to just have done with the game and admit she knew what Baras had done in placing Quinn on her ship.

She just didn't know how to describe her feelings of utter ambivalence on the issue. She'd never really cared, anyway. Of course, it helped that Quinn wasn't really spying. He'd begun covering up for her practically from the start. She knew very well how to go about verifying what sort of information left her ship, after all. Every report, every transmission Quinn had made, she'd reviewed carefully.

She could practically track Quinn's falling in love with her according to those reports, had seen by what he left out, what he changed or otherwise worded oh so carefully what it was that moved him, what concerned him, where she was concerned. Watching the way his mind worked, listening to his words describing her – those reports had proved precious to her.

Of course, she'd also learned even greater levels of hatred towards her master, as well. The man was a slug. But that was a completely different matter and hardly worth considering at the moment. She looked over at Quinn.

"Quinn?"

"Yes, my lord?" He glanced at her.

"I'd like you to do something for me."

"Of course, my lord. Anything."

"I'm so glad you said that! Because I want you to move all of your things into my quarters once we reach the ship."

Quinn almost fell out of his seat. Quite a feat considering he was strapped in.


	67. Chapter 66

Pierce was sitting in the lounge, Jaesa perched on the seat next to him, both of them watching as Toovee moved a chess piece across the board. It was the third game he'd played with the droid and he was becoming purely frustrated. He'd boasted of his chess skills to Jaesa earlier, and she'd assured him Toovee was programmed for play. Being beaten by the droid still decked out in Vette's absurd tie was particularly irksome.

Vette came bouncing into the lounge, and caught sight of the three of them just as Toovee sang, "Check, lieutenant!" She wandered over to stand there, while Pierce snorted. "Hey, you're playing chess. Quinn was getting upset when he played with Toovee, too."

"What, it beat him just as soundly?" Pierce looked up at Vette eagerly.

But the Twi'lek shook her head. "Nah. He kept complaining he couldn't get the programming right, because he always won. Said Toovee didn't provide him challenge enough."

Pierce scowled. "Quinn. Damn him." Jaesa tried but she wasn't able to smother her chuckle. He glared at her, too.

Vette eyed Pierce carefully. "You should help me find outlandish clothes for Toovee, Pierce."

"Why would I do that?"

Jaesa explained. "Because Quinn hates it. It's a game between them. Vette finds these absurd articles of clothes for Toovee and Quinn waits until she isn't watching to remove them. It's actually rather entertaining."

Pierce slowly began smiling. Vette shook her head, muttering something about "Men!" under her breath. That's when the airlock doors suddenly banged open. Pierce jumped to his feet, spinning to face the doorway leading to the airlock, reaching for his blaster, only to freeze when Lusiel stormed angrily into the lounge, shouting behind her.

"You'll do as I tell you, captain!"

Quinn followed her through the door, much more careful. "My lord, I wasn't refusing your direction, I assure you. I only said …"

"You said no!"

"Actually, my lord, I said …" Quinn suddenly caught sight of Pierce, Jaesa and Vette, all lined up near the chess board, gaping at them. Toovee was still sitting, prepared for another round of chess. The entire crew, he thought, horrified. "My lord, I'm not sure this is an appropriate time and place for this conversation."

Lusiel glared at him.

"My lord, please. We're both filthy. We can discuss this issue on the bridge after we've cleaned up, perhaps?" Quinn regarded Lusiel. She ran her eyes down him, taking in the blood splattered all along his frame, along with remnants of the sludge and muck from the planet below. His face and hair was still soaked in dried blood, too. She doubted she looked much better.

"Ten minutes, captain. Not one moment longer."

"Of course, my lord." Quinn watched her stomp towards her quarters. Then he turned.

"What the hell is going on?" Pierce demanded, staring.

Vette was stunned speechless. Any other time, Quinn would've been satisfied to have done something that robbed the Twi'lek of the ability to speak. But he was a bit frantic at the moment, rather.

"Return to your duties, lieutenant." Jaesa began to say something but Quinn held up a hand. "I'm sorry, but I don't have time for this."

They watched as Quinn moved towards his own quarters. Vette finally chirped, excitedly, "I'm gonna time this! Toovee, prepare a countdown!" She glanced down at her datapad. "Eight minutes, starting now!" The droid dutifully began reciting a backward count in its mechanically annoying tone.

Pierce muttered. "Someone really needs to do something about that thing's voice."

With one minute left to go on the count, Lusiel suddenly entered the lounge again. She stopped when she saw them standing there. Her features had been scrubbed clean of blood and grime and her hair was pulled back in its customary fashion. She crossed her arms over her chest when she saw them looking at her.

Pierce grunted. "Right. Back to chess, now." He plopped himself back into the bench seat and pretended fascination with the board, as Vette and Jaesa joined him. They probably would've managed a better nonchalance if Toovee wasn't still intoning its countdown. Lusiel grumbled under her breath as she stalked towards the bridge.

Jaesa looked at her as she went through the door onto the bridge. "I wonder what Quinn did."

"Duh. Isn't that what we're all wondering?" Vette rolled her eyes.

The door to Quinn's quarters suddenly jerked open and he walked hurriedly into the lounge, ignoring them entirely as he made for the bridge. His hair was still wet but combed back and he was fastening the buttons on what looked to be one of his better uniforms as he went along. Vette whistled slightly as he approached the door to the bridge, but he ignored her.

Toovee was chanting, "Eight, seven, six, five …" Quinn walked through the door.

* * *

Lusiel was standing in front of the galaxy map, facing the viewport. She looked over at Quinn as he entered the bridge, and the light of the map highlighted her creamy features. She looked to be glowing in that moment, and he caught his breath. He tried joking.

"According to Toovee, I made it in time, my lord."

But she only shrugged. "I've never doubted your punctuality, captain."

Quinn sighed. He should've known better than to try teasing her. He'd never been good with humor.

Lusiel turned around to face him fully. "You don't want to share my quarters."

"That isn't what I said, my lord. I only pointed out that the crew might regard such an impropriety with negativity, that it could undermine your leadership and mine."

Lusiel stepped forward, growing angry again. But Quinn shook his head at her, suddenly vehement. "Damn it, Lusiel. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings!" She blinked at him, turned away to look back at the viewport. He sighed. "It's easy to forget you're not only a powerful, dynamic Sith but also a woman, with a woman's emotional fervor and logic. I am sorry."

Lusiel didn't look at him, only shrugged. When she didn't say anything, he took a step closer to her.

"Tell me, then. Why do you want me to move into your quarters?" Quinn asked.

Lusiel sighed. "I want you there. Because I love you."

Quinn breathed out. "Well. Now you've said it."

He moved up behind her, until his chest pressed against her back, and he pulled her into an embrace, lowering his head to rest his chin on her shoulder. "What did you say to me when I said the words, hmm? I'm glad, Lusiel."

"But you won't share my quarters?"

Quinn sighed. He turned her in his arms, so he could look into her eyes. "That isn't what I said. I just need to ask you a very important question first." She watched him swallow, sensed the way he suddenly tensed, worried. He tugged at his uniform jacket, grunted slightly.

Lusiel canted her head, regarding him. "Well, I'm all ears, Quinn."

He opted for formality, she could almost feel the way he settled into that familiar mannerism. It was endearing. "I'd be honored if you would marry me."

Lusiel sank back, surprised.

"There's nothing we can't achieve together." Quinn said, earnestly. But his nervousness ached through to her force senses. Lusiel smiled at him, reached up to run her fingers along his jaw, toyed with one of his ears.

"I'll marry you, Quinn."

Quinn burst into what seemed to be the biggest smile she'd ever seen on his face. "You've made me very happy. Although it might have been better if you called me Malavai when you said that."

She tapped a finger against his chin. "I'll just call you husband. How's that?"

He shook his head. "Please. Don't."

"Or maybe 'hubby'".

"I know better than to take you seriously." He rubbed his forehead dramatically, then gazed at her - serious, satisfied and utterly possessive. "I'm going back to work now. Wife."

* * *

**Note from me:**

**I've seen several posts on the forums deploring Quinn's apparent subordinate attitude, challenging his masculinity and, in some cases, his sexuality. And while I do feel Quinn readily accepts a subordinate role in his relationship with the warrior, I have never thought it made him less manly. To me, it's more an acknowledgement of the "proper" roles they both have to adopt when in public. Quinn is all about "proper" and doing things "properly".**

**She ****_is _****a Sith in a world ruled by Sith, and Quinn will never allow her position to be compromised, for anyone to think less of her, not by him openly questioning her dominance and control. It's only in more private moments, I think, that he'll "take charge". And she's highly attracted to that attitude, when he shows it to her, too. I don't believe the warrior would ever truly care for and love someone she doesn't respect as a strong, capable person in and of himself.**

**This chapter was my attempt to capture that feeling. I hope I conveyed it well.**


	68. Chapter 67

Broonmark watched the humans approach the lone Jedi left standing amidst the wreckage he'd made of his former clan's holdings.

He thought humans were ugly little creatures, still thought they could suffer some sort of blindness or at least limited vision, considering they only had two eyes. What did they use to see when it grew dark outside, he wondered. They always looked pathetically cold, as well. Not surprising considering they had no fur except that sorry little mop of hair on their heads. He'd been told they had some spattering of fur on their legs, as well. But he had never seen a human who's legs were left uncovered by some material, so he wasn't certain of that much, either.

The human who addressed the frightened, cowardly Jedi – the one who'd been spinning in place looking for Broonmark himself and failing to discern him through his cloaking device – that human was actually a female. Broonmark thought little of humans and even less of their females. The females were smaller, more helpless than the males. And they seemed more prone to emotional outbursts. He'd seen several human females among the Republic soldiers his clan had fought with who even leaked water from their eyes.

So he wasn't particularly impressed at first with the female who confronted the Jedi. Even compared to the human females he'd seen before, she was small. Her coloring was appealing, at least. Her skin was pale looking, like the snow, but her hair was black as a night sky. At first he thought she might be a Jedi, too, since she wore a robe over her armor, the way the Jedi did. But he'd never seen a Jedi who's robes were red and black, as hers were. All in all, she was a strange little human.

He thought her male counterpart must surely be the greater threat. He was bigger than she was, at least. He'd be able to provide a tougher fight. Not that he'd be capable of defeating Broonmark. But the challenge might be worthwhile.

The pair of humans remained close, though, almost defensive of each other, he thought. They shared scents, too, he noted, indicating a level of closeness that came from sharing body heat even through the night. Broonmark knew that humans didn't comfortably or willingly share body heat unless they were bonded, either as family or mates. These two particular humans weren't related by blood, that he could discern, however. Mates, then.

That would make them more difficult to kill. Mates defending each other fought harder. He'd have to destroy the male first. A male who's female was targeted became enraged, protective. Best to defeat the tougher of the two first.

Then the Jedi began jabbering again. He was becoming even more tiresome, Broonmark thought. "Great, now a Sith shows up! First Xerender abandons me and now this! What did I do to deserve such trials?"

Sith. Broonmark had heard of the Sith. The Republic soldiers and the Jedi had described the Empire and its Sith rulers to Broonmark and his clan many times. According to them, the Sith were evil harbingers of death and destruction, who wantonly scourged the galaxy in foul quests for more power and strength. Broonmark had been fascinated with such stories describing the Sith and their violent, catastrophic nature. But as he regarded the female the Jedi called a Sith, now, he decided that the stories he'd heard were mere allegory, myths designed to scare young people into behaving appropriately. Because this tiny scrap of a human female couldn't possibly demonstrate the sort of dominance he'd been told of such caricatures.

"I am Xerender's errand boy, the one he leaves behind to die. At least a Sith I can see and fight straight up. I won't be assassinated in the dark like these other poor Talz." The Jedi looked back at the Sith. "My master would tell me not to attack. But he's not here. Defend yourself, Sith!"

The Jedi's lightsaber spun out in a vivid arc of blue threat, quickly and smoothly. It stopped with a stinging clash against the crimson glare of the Sith's lightsaber. The Sith stepped forward, almost flowing, like the dewdrops of melting ice, pushing back the Jedi's attack and moving him away from her male companion, who pulled a blaster free even as he jumped backwards.

The two lightsabers lit up the darkening space, flashing against each other and sparking strange shadows along the walls of the Talz tents that surrounded them. The Jedi fought hard but he was no match for the Sith, who's motion remained even, effortless throughout. Absolutely beautiful. Broonmark had thought the Jedi he had encountered were unparalleled warriors. The Sith showed him otherwise. In mere moments, she had fought the Jedi to submission, pulling back against killing him only so she could demand the whereabouts of his master.

"Bah, go ahead and kill me. I didn't want to die at the hands of the beast, anyway," the Jedi sullenly insisted.

The female rolled her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Broonmark! The Talz warned Xerender about him. He's a savage who seeks revenge on Fetzellen and the others for ousting him. This slaughter, here, is the result!" The Jedi waved around at the dead Talz litering the ground. "But did Xerender care? No, he just left and now Broonmark is in here somewhere – wait, did you hear that?"

Broonmark dropped his cloak at the last possible second, uncertain how the Jedi had perceived his presence and, honestly, not really caring. The man died quickly enough under his claws, anyway. He spun to face the Sith once the Jedi crumpled dead with the bubbling sound of blood coming from his neck wounds. He held his claws up threateningly. "Sith must leave now or join the dead!"

She laughed at him! Broonmark was actually stunned. "You can not scare me."

"All creatures know fear. Fetzellen fears. It's why he chose to fight with the Jedi Xerender, because he fears Broonmark's vengeance. The Jedi will not save him. He and all those who follow him must end." Broonmark threatened the Sith once more, promised her death. "Sith must not get in our way."

She only shook her head at him, pointed a dainty finger that didn't even have a worthy claw attached to it at him. "You would be wise, rather, to stay out of _my_ way. I have been tasked to destroy Xerender and I will kill whoever gets in my way as I go about it."

Broonmark was enraged. No one had ever so blatantly threatened _him_ before. Certainly not some fur-less, obviously blind, and tiny little human female! It was intolerable! "Then we must beat respect from you!" He would make her pay!

Broonmark twisted his large frame to fire a flare from his generator at the Sith's male companion, watched it strike him. His body seized, shuddered, and he cried out in agonized pain as the current ripped through his flesh. The Talz moved to make a killing blow against the male before he could recover but he was stopped solidly by a strange blow, a force that compelled him off his feet and flung him – flung him bodily through the air! He landed hard on his back a good fifty meters from the Sith. She roared as he went sailing away, too. He heard it, the growl so primeval he actually felt a touch of fear himself.

He jumped to his feet, pulled his vibrosword from his back, and looked towards the female. And he froze. He had assumed the male was the stronger, more powerful foe, assumed he should kill the male first rather than inspire him to a wrathful protection of his mate. Looking at that small female standing over her companion, who was still twitching from the electricity attack of Broonmark's weapon, he realized suddenly he'd miscalculated where the real threat lay. It was an enraged female he had to concern himself with, in fact.

Broonmark marveled. This, he thought, was what true death looked like. And it was glorious!

The Sith jumped and flew through the air at him, her lightsaber flaring scarlet, like blood, over her head. Broonmark watched her come, lifted his own pitiful sword, knew he was going to die and exhulted, even warbled a cheer in Talzzi. Then she landed, the strength of her blow bringing him down like a stone, thudding him into the ground where he lay gasping for every breath, looking up at her. She glared at him in the blood-red light of her blade, held him pinned there, and snarled. She snarled like one of the great cat beasts that had recently been brought to Hoth by gangs of space pirates, in fact. She certainly didn't sound human right then.

"The next time you make him scream, I'll cut you into the smallest pieces I can and then feed them to you before you die! And _that_ will take a long, long time!"

Broonmark swallowed against the pain of her standing on his chest now, actually. He nodded as best he could, though. "Sith clan proves itself superior," he said.

It was the closest to "sorry" he'd ever give her.

It was also the greatest compliment he would ever give anyone.


	69. Chapter 68

Ensign Slinte fretted as he watched Commander Lanklyn work frantically at the holoterminal's console. He tried not to look up at where the images of a Jedi competed with that of Darth Baras himself. Listening to the men taunt each other increased his own hectic anxiety. Commander Lanklyn appeared downright panicked, however.

"Get this Jedi off my holo, Lanklyn. Now." Darth Baras was emphatic. Slinte winced as Lanklyn sputtered his inability to comply, pointing out that Xerender had tapped into their communication relays. The sense of doom Slinte was suffering heightened. That was when he noticed Darth Baras' apprentice come into the room, her Imperial captain right behind her.

She didn't even glance at him, focusing the whole of her attention on her master. Braver than he was, obviously. Slinte was still trying to forget the man's image was visible. He did notice how worn she and the captain looked, though. He thought he detected a slight grimace on the Imperial's face, even. That could be nothing more than the weather, though. The climate on Hoth tended to invariably fray a person's composure, he thought.

"As Commander Lanklyn has no doubt informed you, the Talz keep me one step ahead of even you." The Jedi Xerender was saying, then.

Baras' apprentice leaned forward, studying the man's face. Slinte thought she looked rather lovely with the glow from the holoterminal highlighting her features. She didn't smile, though. "So, this is the Jedi I'm going to kill," she said to Darth Baras.

"Ah, the lapdog returns. If your trainer knows what's good for him, he'll muzzle you." The Jedi was far more … direct than any Jedi Slinte had observed before, actually. "I'm not here for a reunion, Baras. The last time we met, you were left drained and weaponless. This time you won't be so lucky."

The Jedi's image faded. Slinte breathed in deeply as Darth Baras faced them firmly. He wasn't even Sith and he could feel the Darth's rage. Lanklyn actually started begging. Futilely, of course. In moments, Lanklyn was suspended, his feet kicking desperately as he scratched at his throat for air. Darth Baras cursed at him, throwing his force ability across the miles to destroy the officer, swearing, "You've failed me for the last time, Lanklyn." Pitiful Lanklyn gasped and wheezed for several minutes, seeming to last forever before he finally fell down, dead.

Slinte wasn't sure what was worse. Watching Lanklyn die. Or hearing Darth Baras tell him he was taking Lanklyn's place. "Don't screw it up … Commander."

* * *

Lusiel was beginning to dislike the sound of Talzzi. The reedy quality of the speech made the threats the Talz were inclined to give her seem funny at first rather than serious. It honestly left her confused more than anything. Only because she kept waiting for the Talz to say, "Boo! Just teasing!"

That was the thought that made her chuckle as she retrieved Baras' old lightsaber from the top of the barrel where the scavenger had tossed it when she'd arrived. The Talz who's bodies littered the ground around the barrel should've made her laugh, anyway. Then they wouldn't have ended up dead. If even one had said "Boo!" she'd have let them all go. No such luck, however. Which was probably why when she turned to find Broonmark standing there, trilling renewed accusations about her supposed interference with his hunt, she became frustrated. If anyone should sing, "Boo," it was this particular Talz, anyway. Him and his cloaking device that allowed him to pop in and out of sight.

Of course it didn't help she kept remembering the salve she applied to Quinn's burned side the night before, either. He'd hissed in pain as she smoothed the gelatinous medicince across the wound. He teased her about "filing mental notes" regarding Talz fighting tactics so that he wasn't caught off guard again. When she wasn't overly amused, he kissed her. That didn't amuse her, either, but she didn't remain upset. Mostly because he kept kissing her.

Lusiel shook her head at Broonmark, now. "I did not know I would find Talz here."

"We know Sith are powerful. Sith defeat us, brave Hoth terrain, and arrive here first. But Sith must not steal our kills! We must be clean! We must have revenge!" Broonmark warbled.

Lusiel crossed her arms across her chest, glared at the Talz. "My master sent me to retrieve his lightsaber. I'm to use it to find Jedi Xerender. Stop interfering, Broonmark!"

Broonmark pondered. "If we give Sith the location where Jedi clan hunts, then Sith can go and kill Jedi, leave our hunt alone."

"So long as you stay out of my way," Lusiel shrugged.

"We know and respect Sith power. We will not help Jedi clan. But we need Sith to leave Fetzellen. Fetzellen is our kill." Broonmark appeared hopeful as he backed away and then cloaked once more.

Lusiel shook her head. No "boo", still. Damn him.


	70. Chapter 69

_**This chapter number is ironic, I just now realized, lol.**_

_**Just wanted to make a quick assurance, here. This is my first fanfiction but won't be my last. And every one of my SWTOR characters that I highlight in the fanfictions I share will have an opportunity to share body heat while on Hoth. Only because every time I play on the planet, I think, "Geez, that looks cold as Hell."**_

_**Enjoy.**_

* * *

"My lord! There's a storm rolling in! We must take shelter, now!" Quinn yanked Lusiel back into the lee of the doorway, just as a vicious gust of wind ripped against the side of the mountain where they had tracked the pirates. They pressed themselves back inside of the base where the pirates had sheltered until Lusiel stormed through the place, stepping over their scattered bodies as they fought together to secure the doors.

Quinn turned around once the doors were properly shielded against the extreme winds that battered at them as the storm raged outside. He moved quickly to clear a space free of dead pirates so he could set out several heaters that would reinforce the climate controls the pirates had already set in place before they'd been discovered. Working steadily, Quinn rapidly established a comfortable resting area in the midst of the debris.

Lusiel leaned against a nearby stone wall, her commlink held in one small hand as she described the situation to Lieutenant Pierce, who'd taken shelter with Jaesa at the nearby Frostwake Outpost. "The good news is we found and destroyed the White Maw pirates that the fixer described to us. The bad news is we are now caught at their base and surrounded by their bodies as we wait out the storm. Are you secure, there?"

"Yes, my lord. Storm's hitting the outpost hard, too. Spoke to Vette at Dorn Base, who says the storm hasn't yet grounded troops at that end of the planet. But it's moving fast. Hoth keeps people on their toes, obviously. We'll wait for word from you, my lord." Pierce reported.

Reassured her people were all safe from the ravages of Hoth's climate, Lusiel returned her attention to her most immediate circumstances. Quinn was busily manhandling pirate bodies towards the rear of the enclosed space. Lusiel knew he was trying to prevent the rancid smell of blood to overwhelm them, there, in the increasing warmth of their small camp.

"You must remove your wet clothes, my lord." Lusiel glanced down at herself, finally noticed the melting snow that was leaving a small puddle beneath her boots. She shivered just watching the droplets hitting the floor. Quinn reached for her, began yanking at her clothes. Lusiel watched him rather than helped, smiling slightly as she remembered the last time he'd stripped her.

This time, Lusiel thought, she wanted Quinn bared naked, too.

Lusiel's torso was already naked when she suddenly slapped Quinn's hands away and began pulling his clothes off, rather. Quinn gasped, as Lusiel rapidly unfastened the ties holding his coat in place and pushed it off and away from his shoulders. She reached down and pulled the hem of his shirt up and then over his head. Then she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him, rubbing her breasts against his chest as she tucked her head against his shoulder. Quinn groaned, holding her close.

He sighed. "Your pants and boots, my lord."

"You first." Lusiel reached down and began working at removing the last of Quinn's clothes, lowering herself to her knees in front of him. He helped her, letting his pants slide down his thighs before kicking his boots off his feet. Lusiel finally glanced up when the last of his clothes were removed, her dark eyes taking in the sight of a fully naked Quinn delightedly. "Delicious," she murmured.

He shivered when Lusiel leaned forward, touched the crown of his hardening erection with a soft lick. He held his breath when she ran her tongue down his length, tickling the underside as she went. And he groaned loudly when she finally opened her mouth wide and engulfed his cock inside. He reached up to hold her head in place, gently rocked his hips against her face. Quinn's head fell back as he moaned, "Lusiel. Damn. Like that, yes. Gods."

Lusiel listened to him, moaned around the flesh in her mouth, and felt him buck his hips as he thrilled at the vibration against him. So she did it again. Quinn began a smooth thrusting motion against her, reaching for the back of her throat as Lusiel relaxed into the experience. She ran her hands along the backs of his thighs, scratched her nails on the globes of his ass, pulled him into her in time to his movements.

"Enough!" Quinn stopped moving suddenly, snatched himself from her mouth. Lusiel whimpered, looking up at him. He reached down and picked her up, striding over to the pallet he'd tossed onto the floor near the heaters. He set her on her feet and stripped her remaining clothes off, tossing them aside carelessly. Lusiel watched her undergarments float to the ground in a heap, thinking how unlike Quinn it was not to fold them up first.

Then he spun her around, pushing her forward onto her hands and knees on the pallet. Lusiel felt him settling behind her on his knees, frantic, hurried. She lowered her head down, clutching the edges of the pallet, and thrust her buttocks upwards, spreading her thighs. She heard Quinn groan again. Lusiel moaned loudly as she felt him start to enter her, one of his hands holding her around the waist as he pressed himself inside.

"You make me lose my senses," Quinn grumbled, moving to grip both of her hips firmly.

"Good."

He began thrusting into her, pushing himself as deeply as he could go. He yanked her hips back and into his thrusts to increase the force of his penetration, and Lusiel keened. She felt him stretching her, plunging, riding her hard. She called out, "Malavai!" And the pleasure whipped at her, burst upon her raw senses.

She wailed his name, again, tossing her head back and arching her back, felt him clutch her, heard him groan when he felt her inner muscles grip and squeeze him. He thrust once, then twice. Held himself there as he found his own satisfaction, felt it rippling through him. He fell forward, caught himself before he crushed her beneath him, lowered himself down onto the pallet before pulling her into his arms. Warm and sated, they lay there together, panting.

Lusiel spoke softly, eventually. "We should probably get married pretty soon, hmm?"

Quinn looked down and into her eyes. He thought of Lusiel, thought of her holding a child, blinked. Lusiel grinned.

"You hadn't even thought of that, did you?"

"I'd barely imagined you saying yes, actually."

"Really? Why?"

Quinn shrugged.

"This has to do with your father, doesn't it?" Lusiel considered.

"He was not pleased I wasn't force sensitive, no. I've lived my whole life with the knowledge of that disappointment. Nothing I did made up for it, not in his eyes." Quinn admitted.

"He was a fool. I am not." Lusiel leaned up onto an elbow, regarded him solemnly. "There will be plenty of rumors, questions regarding why I'll marry you. Few will understand the truth. I'll tell them of your brilliance, your nerve. I'll tell them of what I've sensed through the force, that your children with me will be powerful and strong and very much attuned to the force. Only some will ever realize there's more to it than all of that, because that's really all they need to know."

"And what is that?"

"That I will marry you as so few Sith ever marry. For love, Malavai. There won't be many who believe it, in fact. Some I'll even hide it from."

Quinn nodded. "I understand." And he did. He knew that Sith politics could be brutally simple at times. Love could strengthen a Sith and simultaneously become a bludgeon against them. Love matches were extraordinarily rare among them as a result, even moreso the higher up in rank the Sith was, and Lusiel was climbing steadily into the higher ranks. She aptly feared her love being used against her.

He tightened his arms around her, thinking of Baras all of a sudden, seeing the corpse of the soldier who'd disappointed him in his mind's eye. He wanted to protect her, protect the future she'd told him she sensed. He wasn't sure he could and his chest tightened painfully at the thought.


	71. Chapter 70

Quinn considered the beast as it begged Lusiel for a chance to win its revenge and join her crew. Broonmark was still just as large and furry as ever, he thought. He imagined where it might reside on the ship, mapped out a series of quarters that could be acclimated to support the Talz. He would have to ensure the temperature was agreeable to its medical needs. That, and he'd have to ascertain what means were necessary to treat him in the event he was injured.

He absently rubbed his side, where the burn the Talz had caused still ached in his memory. He supposed if another large, furry creature decided to zap him with such a painful piece of weaponry, it would benefit them if this large, furry creature was in the way.

Lusiel was adamant she get around Fetzellen, of course. This confrontation was blocking their progress through the corridors of the downed ship to where Xerender was reviving his old Jedi master, Wyellet. Quinn was only vaguely cognizant of the details that allowed for the Jedi's survival after being buried in Hoth's ice for years of time. What he was most concerned with was getting Lusiel to where she needed to be. Quickly.

As she'd mentioned when they entered the wrecked ship, "Broonmark better hurry his vendetta along. We don't have much time."

Which left them, here, to witness Talz justice in effect, so to speak.

"Sith again you arrive. This is Fetzellen, the clan's betrayer. We must clean the clan. We must kill him!" Broonmark insisted. "Sith lets us rip him to shreds and we pledge to you. We are of your clan and kill only for Sith. Until we are dead."

Lusiel paused. "But if Fetzellen kills you, monster, where would I be?"

Broonmark became agitated. "We prove our worth! We fulfill our pledge. Let us show you! We beg the Sith! We become their most loyal minion. We die for our clan. Grant our revenge!"

Quinn saw Lusiel glance at him, briefly uncertain. But he had already considered the issue. "We could support a Talz on board the ship, my lord, yes. With only minor adjustments, even. You did say you wanted a brute, I believe."

"I thought that was supposed to be Pierce, actually."

"I will be certain to remind him of his appropriate role, according to you, my lord."

Broonmark shook himself, his claws clenched into fists. "Fetzellen is our vendetta! We must destroy with our hands! Ours alone! Then we join you."

Lusiel nodded. "Kill Fetzellen. Then you'll fight for me."

Watching Broonmark beat Fetzellen's head in, Quinn decided the electronic charge he'd been hit with was actually rather pleasant an experience, by comparison.

* * *

The battle raged for days high above the planet's surface.

The Republic had amassed a huge armada of ships, many of them using never before seen technologies, all powerful and terrible in scope. The _Star of Coruscant_ alone bristled with countless experimental weapons, a superdreadnought that its builder, Colonel Omas, swore would be the spearhead which took the head of the Emperor himself. The fleet was destined to confront the Sith at Dromund Kaas itself, a mighty blow that would work, it was hoped, to bring the Great Galactic War to an end and spell a final death knell to the Sith Empire.

Instead, a lonely Imperial agent discovered the existence of the fleet. What's worse, he learned what route the fleet was taking to reach Dromund Kaas. And as the Republic ships traversed the Hoth system, they were confronted by an Imperial Armada at least equal in size, if not scope.

The ships rained down upon the surface of Hoth. Some broke into pieces. The _Vehement Sword_'s prototype null cannons were ripped apart in Hoth's atmosphere, crashing in lumps of debris among the wreckage that soon strewn across the planet's surface. The _Star of Coruscant_ crashed into Hoth remarkably intact.

Years later, Jedi Knight Leeha Narezz called Hoth "one of the largest starship graveyards in the galaxy". The entombed ships invited countless scavengers and pirates, who climbed into and within the wrecked ships, seeking treasures and powers.

None of them knew or realized the Jedi Master who lay in a trance far beneath the ice and snow, ripped from the sky when the Imperial prison ship he was being transported on was destroyed in the battle. He lay there, communing with the Force, sustaining himself and his strength, calling out unceasingly to his former padawan, even as the years slid by into decades.

Eventually, Xerender heard him and he came. But the Force seeks constant balance. And where Xerender came, the Sith followed.

* * *

Lusiel pressed determinedly into the wreckage of the ship, slogging through the ice and mud the Jedi she was following had removed from his path in order to reach the Master he was seeking. She could feel power in the place. A deep-seated power, aching and real. It had been dormant for many years and was just now waking.

She would not tolerate such a power opposing her, opposing the Empire. It would be destroyed. Today. Now, she thought, as she finally came through a crack in the ship's hull and saw two Jedi kneeling together in an icy cavern just ahead, a nearby troop of Republic soldiers providing loose support.

Xerender she recognized. His image on the holoterminal as he mocked Baras, the rage he inspired in the Darth, was one she'd enjoyed, a priceless bit of entertainment she was tempted to thank the Jedi for as she finally laid eyes on him.

The other Jedi was the source of the power she'd been sensing as she trudged to reach this place. Obviously older than Xerender, as he would be if he was, indeed, Master Wyelett, the Jedi was leaning against some icy stones that had most likely entombed him until Xerender pulled him free. He was weary, his strength still slight after his long stupor. But he was already gathering himself. Lusiel knew she needed to destroy him quickly, or not at all. Because given time, he would be beyond her ability to defeat. Intolerable, that.

Wyelett was speaking to Xerender, "I have fed off the Force and have great insights to impart."

Lusiel stepped forward, single-minded. She gathered herself, focused. She sensed Quinn moving alongside her, his attention single-minded and firm. She gestured, felt him affirm her silent direction as he fell back and behind her.

"Well this should be good." Lusiel announced, watching as Xerender turned to face her and Wyelett came to his feet. The Jedi Master regarded her with peaceful, sad eyes. She felt the tug of Xerender's anger, though. "I can't wait to hear what you have to say."

Wyelett shook his head. "I sense … Baras."

"Indeed. This is Baras' apprentice, come to stop me from returning you to your command, Master Wyelett." Xerender stalked over to confront Lusiel. But Wyelett wasn't looking at her, she noticed. He was looking past her, to where Quinn was standing, rather. Lusiel frowned. "Conserve your strength. My men and I will dispatch this interloper."

Lusiel shook her head, warning. "It's useless to defy me, Xerender. I will destroy you."

"Strong words, Sith. But you're outnumbered. Not even the sadistic Talz you've managed to tame will save you now." Xerender activated his lightsaber, illuminating Lusiel's face in its pale blue glow for only a moment. Only a moment, before it was replaced by the scarlet flush of her own lightsaber. And Lusiel began to dance to her lightsaber's song.

The high-pitched warble of Broonmark's Talzzi tongue rose up over the throng of Republic soldiers, as he and Quinn swing to meet the press of their attack. Quinn swiped the butt end of his blaster across one man's face, watched him fall with a thud to the ground, and then shot a bolt into his chest, killing him. He spun around in time to see another soldier twitching in cruel spasms against the pain of Broonmark's electric stun attack. Quinn shook his head as Broonmark clubbed the man dead. He called to the Talz, "Do you have any idea how much that hurts?"

Broonmark trilled, "We do it _because_ it hurts."

"You didn't actually answer the question." Quinn pointed out, even as he shot another soldier.

Xerender was like so many of Lusiel's opponents. He relied upon his superior size more than anything, trying to compel Lusiel's defeat with sheer strength. But Lusiel flowed around him, intercepting his blows simply, smoothly and retaliating with sinuous and graceful strikes of her own lightsaber. The melody of her blade remained harmonious,a glorious blend of stinging knockbacks that very gradually worse Xerender down. At the last, he raised his lightsaber high over his head, roaring at the smaller Sith woman as he prepared to propel every bit of his remaining power into one mighty attack. But Lusiel swiped at his knee, listened to him scream out in agony even as he toppled over in a heap of bleeding distress, clutching at his ruined limb.

"Please stop!" Wyelett cried, waving his hands at the Sith in desperate entreaty. "Don't kill him. Had I been stronger, I would have kept Xerender from engaging you. Now he's down and your battle with him has made this chamber unstable. You've proven your superiority. Let me bargain for Xerender's life now."

Lusiel shook her head. "Baras was very clear. You and Xerender must not survive." Briefly, she recalled Lanklyn's demise in the wake of Xerender's taunting of the Sith lord. Even if Baras didn't kill her for leaving the Jedi alive, he'd surely kill one of her people in retaliation. Quinn, perhaps, for not doing the deed himself. He'd call it a "just punishment". It wouldn't be allowed.

"Death is not the only solution. Leave us, here, as the chamber collapses. We will remain entombed and your master will believe us killed." Wyelett insisted.

"You must think me a fool," Lusiel scoffed.

"No. Rather the opposite, in fact. I have communed with the Force long enough to respect your abilities. I was once much like Xerender, young, rash. But I had only begun to grasp the potential of the Force. Here on Hoth I experienced its full breadth. And I wish to share that insight with Xerender now."

Lusiel looked down at Xerender as he groaned in pain. "You must be more powerful than ever, Wyelett."

"Only the Sith would see it that way. Someday perhaps you'll understand it isn't power but peace. The Force simply is."

"More Jedi nonsense. It's why you flounder and flail against us." Lusiel spun in an easy, terrible arch of motion, her lightsaber flaring crimson as she took Xerender's head. It spun off into the snow nearby, as Lusiel pointed her saber towards Wyelett. "I will not allow you to become anymore powerful, Jedi."

Wyelett cursed, yanking his lightsaber free to meet the Sith's charge. He was a far more challenging opponent than Xerender. He met Lusiel's attacks with steady precision and retaliated with his own. Lusiel felt the burning sting of his saber against her left shoulder, then again on her right hip. The battle raged between the two opponents – the Jedi and the Sith – even as the chamber shook and trembled against the force and repercussion of their motions, the song of their fight.

But Wyelett was still tired. He moved just one time too slow. And Lusiel seized the advantage. Her lightsaber slashed against the exposed center of the Jedi's belly, laying open the flesh there and causing Wyelett to stumble, gasping. He whispered, once, "No, not yet."

Lusiel sent her lightsaber sinking into his chest.

It was done.


	72. Chapter 71

_"That day Kaas City was beautiful, my darling. It wasn't raining. There was even a lightening to the sky. My family was so proud of me. I was wedding a true hero, a man who'd fought and saved so many lives across countless battlefields. He would be an admiral, even a Moff, my mother said to me. My father was more impressed over his family line. One of his brothers was a powerful Sith, killed by a Jedi during the War."_

Jaesa Willsaam, apprentice to the Sith Lord Lusiel, watched her master, who stood in front of the Vaiken Spacedock's windows in apparent deep thought. She supposed the Sith was meditating. But then Lusiel smoothed her burgundy-colored robes against her blackened armor, picking at seemingly invisible lint. Outside, scores of Imperial ships dotted the view, all reflecting the brilliant light of distant stars and nearby Dromund Kaas.

"Master?"

Lusiel raised an eyebrow as she turned to face Jaesa. Jaesa was dressed finely in a set of crimson robes which rustled whenever she shifted her stance, there, behind Lusiel. Vette was bouncing even as she leaned against a nearby wall.

"This isn't wise, master." Jaesa frowned, thoughtful. She was confused, in fact. She didn't understand the decision Lusiel had come to, why she would take such a step, when she already had what she wanted. She could use the man as often as she desired, without shame for taking her pleasures in whatever capacity she decided.

She had finally looked at it using her own unique ability and realized the dramatic truth. That had confused her, too. Although she supposed she should have known even Sith could feel such things as passionate love. Maybe especially Sith, in fact, given that they gave far more latitude to their every feeling than any Jedi did. Of course, the Jedi taught there were dangers attached to this particular emotion, too. Jaesa wasn't certain the Jedi saw the danger of it precisely as the Sith did, though.

Lusiel considered her, now, carefully. Jaesa knew Lusiel understood what her ability had discerned of the situation. Not surprisingly, her master was looking at her now as if for possible threats.

Jaesa sighed. She had sworn adamantly to her master she wouldn't act as so many apprentices did, that she wasn't interested in supplanting her in the ages-old Sith tradition of dominance and control between master and apprentice. In this respect, Jaesa clung tenaciously to her Jedi roots, where padawans were cared for by their masters, where the relationships were more akin to parent and child than master and servant. Her own parents had barely cared for her, after all. They're regarded her more as a commodity to be bartered towards their own betterment, and Jaesa had ached longingly for something greater.

But Lusiel had no Jedi teaching, no Republic tradition of autonomy and mutual respect that she could draw upon. She examined everything and everyone for the chance they'd strike at her. It was one of the greatest hallmark tendencies of the Sith, Jaesa thought. She was only grateful that Lusiel tolerated her idiosyncracies in this regard. Probably because it won them a sort of security in the meantime. Lusiel had admitted there were threats enough for them to contend with, after all.

Jaesa wondered briefly if things might someday change, if she'd lose these final vestiges of her experience and learning as an Alderaanian and as a Jedi. Perhaps. For now, she doubted it, though. She liked Lusiel, anyway. Even more, she didn't believe she'd ever actually be capable of defeating Lusiel's power.

Lusiel's was an indelible strength, one that would only grow stronger as she advanced, Jaesa believed. She still hoped for her affection, though. Or at least her friendship.

"What do your senses tell you, Jaesa?" Lusiel pondered.

"That … I mean, I know why you're doing this. But isn't that dangerous among the Sith?"

Lusiel grinned. "That's what makes it fun."

Vette laughed, then. "Never a dull moment where you're concerned, my lord. But he's still Mr. Stick-up-his-butt to me."

That's when the doors opened and the men started filing inside.

_"Your father wore his uniform that day. He looked so handsome, so dark. His eyes were deep pools of dark brown. Looking into his eyes was like looking at the rich soil of Dromund Kaas after a rainfall late at night. He had so many medals adorning his uniform, the insignia of his unit was like the brightest blood red, and his boots gleamed black. I was so proud I could call him mine in that moment."_

Lieutenant Pierce marched into the room behind the captain, pausing only to adjust the hard edge of his new armored uniform first. Lord Lusiel had seen to it his uniform reflected the honor of his current assignment, and it gleamed blackly in the light cast by the planet below through the nearby windows. Scarlet insignia depicting his special forces training and experience stained the arms of his chestpiece.

Pierce took up a guard stance just inside of the doorway, even as he watched the proceedings. The captain, though, continued forward. Quinn's officer's uniform was the standard gray of the Imperial military. Black epaulettes encased his shoulders and a black cord looped over his right shoulder, extending under his arm, the black designating his role as an officer in direct service to a Sith while the cord specified the Sith he served was at least the rank of Lord.

Pierce wasn't exactly certain why Lord Lusiel was doing this, actually. Not that he'd make a point of asking her, either. Vette had been right about that much, at least. One simply didn't question a Sith's judgement. Not and keep his head intact, anyway. When a person could throw you into a nearby wall hard enough your spine snapped, it was best to keep from riling them.

No, it was safer to sit back and mull the question, rather than come right out and ask. So what if the effort left him just as bewildered as he was during the end of the Quesh mission, when he saw Quinn transporting all his things into Lord Lusiel's quarters. Why she'd go so far as to move the man into her private space, let alone give him something as incredible as marriage, when she could already have him anywhere, anytime she wanted just tossed his everlasting mind.

Quinn's reasoning made far more sense to Pierce. Quinn would make out quite handily in this little venture, after all. He certainly had example enough to know it could be done. Hey, like father, like son.

Rymar Quinn had married a Sith, too. Probably for the same damn reason, to boot. What would faster propel an officer's career than marriage to a Sith? It had worked out pretty well for Rymar, from what Pierce had discovered. He'd quickly climbed to the rank of Colonel after he was married. Probably would've gone even further, too. Except the ship he was stationed on came under attack by fringe pirates and he ended up pretty dead. That, and his Sith wife died giving birth to a son with no force sensitivity of his own.

He'd apparently encouraged his son to follow in his footsteps, though, because Malavai Quinn spent the entirety of his education in the most advanced – and expensive - military academies in the Empire. Pierce didn't have much respect for a book-learned officer.

Education born of experience, that came from the battlefield, either in direct combat or in immediate leadership – that would have been training Pierce could approve. Instead, he was stuck with Quinn. Who's real talent seem to lie more in earning the admiration of his commander, enough she'd marry the prissy twat. The man was going to rise to the rank of Moff, Pierce wagered.

Some men just have all the luck, he thought, as Quinn stepped forward and took Lusiel's hand.

_"Some of my sweetest friends were in attendance. They came from the best families in Kaas City, of course. They all told me how beautiful I looked, as I came into the room wearing this gorgeous lavender dress made of silk from Corellia. But I had so many gifts, too, from all over the galaxy. I felt as if I was the most important girl who'd ever lived."_

Broonmark didn't know what to make of the gathering. He'd let the little blue female prepare him for the event, though. She'd carefully brushed his fur out, even, twittering the entire time, much like a tiny and exotic bird. Broonmark had quite enjoyed the exchange, in fact.

Still, he was confused as he stood near the tiny Twi'lek now. He knew the Sith mated the dark-haired human male, thought their bond was particularly strong, actually. Which made this public statement unnecessary, he thought.

If the Sith were Talz, she would have entered the male's living space and made it her own. That would have been enough of a declaration. The tribe would have recognized their bond after that, no one would have questioned it. He'd observed that the male slept in the Sith's quarters on the ship. Why wasn't that enough? The way these humans acted, though, the mate bond was only real after they'd pronounced it publicly in this ritualistic manner.

It was all very strange.

He wondered if some would try to take the Sith's mate from her, otherwise. Not that he could imagine the effort proving successful. He still remembered the feeling of the Sith's boots on his chest after he'd wounded the man. He could only imagine the destruction she'd wreak on someone who truly tried to take him from her possession.

Maybe the human male who stepped into the room, then, would try and take him. That would definitely prove interesting, at least. But the Sith remained unconcerned. And the strange human began laying out several objects on a table in the center of the room. A silken cord and what looked to be two metallic ornamental objects. Broonmark studied this strange new human. He was dressed in uniformed coverings like those of the Sith's mate. But with more decorations on the front of it. The Sith and her mate approached the man at the table, stood in front of it.

Broonmark shook his head. Humans were as weird as they were ugly.

_"I felt like the whole world was mine, if only I reached out to grab it. Everyone wanted it for me, my parents and all of my friends. Surely he did too, and he would secure it for my having. He would introduce me to admirals and moffs, their families. Maybe I would even rub elbows with Sith, powerful Sith. The Empire would be better for it, I knew it."_

Vette watched as Lusiel and Quinn stood in front of the official registrant appointed to record their marriage. She suddenly remembered the first time she'd seen Quinn, back on Balmorra. The smell of the bombs going off, the whistling sound of aircraft overhead – all of it seemed such a long time in the past.

She had a pretty good idea why they were doing this. But that's only because she'd seen them that first day, back when she was still trying to figure Lusiel out. She'd seen the way they looked at each other, the way they instantly _liked_ one another, an almost immediate emotional connection that was given the time and space it needed to flourish into something so much greater.

And Vette had lots of experience watching the people around her. It was a rather necessary skill in the world of a slave, because the slave who didn't pay particular attention to the nuances of behavior in those more powerful than she was was the slave who ended up paying the consequences for those behaviors. No, she was certain she knew what compelled these two to step forward and clasp their hands together.

The Imperial officer who would register the marriage squared his shoulders, then. His uniform stiffly pressed, he nodded at them, unsmiling. "Declare yourselves."

"I'm Sith Lord Lusiel Phyre."

"I'm Captain Malavai Quinn."

The officer grunted. Then he reached down and picked up the silken cord he'd placed on the table earlier. He reached over and began twining the cord around the shared grasp of Lusiel and Quinn's hands, not stopping until they were bound together.

"The commitment of marriage is binding. It has to be. The Empire is strengthened or weakened on the success or failure of its most basic bonds, those of family, of partners. To fail in this commitment is to fail the Empire. You will cleave to one another. You will forsake all others. You will produce children that you will raise up to be worthy members of the Empire. You will do this together. Are you agreed?"

Lusiel nodded. "Yes."

Quinn looked at Lusiel. "Yes."

"Are your witnesses present? Declare yourselves." Vette watched as each person in the room spoke their names and rank into the registered recording. When it was her turn, the tiny Twi'lek bounded to her feet, grinning widely. "I'm Vette Ce'na, honorable slave to Sith Lord Lusiel, gratefully." She bowed dramatically, as Lusiel smiled and Quinn shook his head. Even Toovee sounded off at the end, only to say he was recording the proceedings as directed by his master.

Vette pressed closer, then. The ornamental arm cuffs the couple had chosen to signify their marriage were blackened metallic that shimmered translucent in the light when they were left uncovered. Vette watched Lusiel and Quinn place the armlets into place on each other, heard the click as each one snapped closed, and sighed.

"It's done. You're married." The officer's last words intoned loudly.

Vette waited until the fellow left the room. She looked around, listened to Broonmark make a small warbling sound. "So, uh, hey. Can we hit the VIP lounge now?"

_"Remember, Lusiel. Choose your partner wisely. Make sure he can carry you farther than you would be able to go alone. Do not settle. Do not take a lesser man for your husband. And whatever you do. Don't ever marry for something as absurd as love."_

Lusiel remembered her mother's screams as she plummeted from the windows of her childhood home as she lay in her bed that night. She watched her husband come into their quarters, watched him as he tugged his uniform off and faced her, naked.

Ah, mother, she thought to herself. I'll do whatever it takes to never, ever be like you.

* * *

**I did my best to figure out what weddings in the Empire would look like. Other than Anakin's secretive ceremony as depicted in Episode 2, which was more Republic than Imperial, actually, I really had nothing to go on. So I completely made one up. However, I did manage to find a post made by Daniel Erikson where he described the attitude of the Empire towards marriage during this period. I relied heavily on that post as I tried to really "figure out" the SW's marriage to Quinn.**

**Daniel Erikson said:**

_**"For the last thousand years the Sith Empire has needed stability and growth more than anything else. That means alliances that prevent power struggles. It means encouraging the creation of more children. Which in turn means marriage and a focus on family.**_

_**Where once the individual was judged largely alone, bloodlines are now incredibly socially important. A Sith from a long line of powerful Sith will find his path through the Academy easier, his opportunities increased. A family with no Force-users who suddenly find themselves with a Force-sensitive child will sacrifice everything they have to get them martial training and mental discipline coaches - for if that child passes the Academy and becomes Sith the entire family will rocket to the penultimate social class in Imperial society, side by side with moffs and governors, second only to Sith themselves.**_

_**Marriage among the Sith is usually between only two people and is often to forge a political alliance. Marriages of love do happen often among the lower ranked Sith but decrease the closer the Lord is to the top of the pyramid-shaped power structure. Marriages between Sith and non-Sith are rare as the Sith believe it dilutes the chance of a Force-sensitive offspring. It is a common, though unspoken of practice, for Sith parents to kill a non Force-sensitive offspring and deny it ever existed, claiming the baby was stillborn, etc. A Sith with openly non Force-sensitive offspring is believed to be admitting the thinness of the blood in his or her family line.**_

_**Adultery is common among the Sith but officially illegal. Divorce is strongly frowned upon but killing one's spouse for adultery or any other provable offense is socially acceptable. The one time you see obligatory divorce is when a member of the Dark Council breaks a couple apart to stop the assimilation of too much power in one place"**_

**Sorry for the book of notes. I can provide the link to that quote that I found, if anyone wants to PM me for it. But I really hope you enjoy the chapter, regardless.**


	73. Chapter 72

Darth Baras knew he couldn't wait any longer. He'd managed to undermine Vengean's strength and position on the Dark Council. Some of the Lords were outright calling for Vengean's head, in fact. But now Lord Draahg had been rooted out.

Draahg was one of Baras' singular successes. An apprentice he'd managed to infiltrate into the inner sanctum of Vengean's own household, who's insights and considerations on the workings of Vengean's chambers provided a particular advantage. He was placed strategically to undermine, weaken and, ultimately, destroy Baras' master. Vengean stood in the way of so much Baras hoped to accomplish. His destruction would assure Baras more power than he'd ever dreamed of.

But it had to be now. With Draahg discovered, it was only a matter of time before Vengean knew most of Baras' plans. Vengean would use what Draahg told him to regain the foothold he'd long held on the Council. That, and he'd strike solidly against Baras himself, perhaps manage to kill him. He couldn't be allowed to counter what Baras had begun setting into motion!

It was time to unleash his masterpiece, his greatest weapon. Everything he'd accomplished had come about because he'd put the right players in the right place, but she'd always proved herself a gamechanger. She was like an explosive force, that placed just so could wreak the most exceptional havoc. She'd simply never failed, no matter what challenge he put to her.

She was beautiful.

And she was dangerous. To him, as much as to any opponent he used her against.

No, once she served her purpose, once her lightsaber took Vengean down, then her usefulness to him would be finished. Better to rely upon Draahg, rather. Draahg could be controlled, manipulated. Not like her. She was like a force of nature, rather. Baras knew he would never truly dominate her, that he'd only barely held sway over her up to this point.

No, he couldn't wait any longer. The beginning of the end had come.

* * *

Draahg felt his breath catch the first time he caught sight of her. Not that breathing was very easy for him right then. The bands of the torture table were still cutting into his arms and legs with painful force.

But he still felt a thrill when he caught sight of Baras' enforcer. He wasn't certain Baras' description did her justice, in fact. He'd said Lord Lusiel was "attractive enough but dangerously powerful". As he turned his head to regard the woman who leaned over the table where his form was bound, Draahg thought "attractive enough" was pitifully inadequate.

Her eyes alone could win a man's attention. They tempted with a warm dark appeal, Draahg thought, as she cast her gaze down to where he was fixed to the table. But her curves were perfection, too. Her hips were encased in a roped belt but surely sweet enough to wrap his hands around, while her breasts actually rounded the robed breastplate she sported. He felt himself twitch into hardness. Incredible, considering his damaged state after Vengean's minions had worked him over.

Don't underestimate her, Baras had warned him. All Draahg really wanted to do right then was get to know her, actually.

"Quinn, we must loosen these trusses, first." She'd turned her head, then. Draahg looked to see an Imperial, who stepped close enough to begin working at the tethers binding him to the table. He addressed Lord Lusiel as he worked.

"It will only take a moment, my lord."

"Lord Draahg? Baras sent me." Lusiel leaned over him again, frowning. "I've brought a resuscitation stimulant, as well."

The stimulant worked wonders, the medicine moving through his system to rapidly rectify the dogged vigor that had first caught Darth Baras' attention. Draahg stood to his full height, looking down at Lusiel then. He frowned as he noted her small stature. Even the Imperial who followed her was larger than she was, he thought as he watched the man step in close to her and lean over to whisper something in her ear.

Quinn she'd called him, Draahg remembered. Quinn trotted back towards the doorway, his blaster held up, as he poked his head out to scan the corridor. The fellow was obviously checking to confirm they hadn't alerted anyone with the fight they'd made to reach him. Not yet, at least, Draahg thought, noting the bodies of several soldiers tossed into the corner of the room.

"I'm grateful." Draahg told her. "To you and to Baras. I look forward to serving him directly once Darth Vengean is destroyed."

Lord Lusiel was focused. "Tell me you know how to find him."

Draahg was cynical of Lusiel's ability to contend with Vengean. Why had Baras sent such a slight creature to take on so powerful a master as Vengean? "He's in his inner sanctum," Draahg said. "Communing with the dark side, channeling his rage and power. It won't be easy to access."

She rolled her eyes at him! Unbelievable. "There's nothing I can't handle. Tell me what's involved."

"Good. We'll have to be ready for anything. I know Darth Vengean well – he'll have tricks up his sleeve." Draahg mentally shrugged. Tiny thing she may be but she'd just have to do it. "There are three outer rings of Vengean's inner sanctum, guarded by some of his most powerful followers and apprentices. You'll have to get through them. I will follow. I have to obtain the key, first, that we will use to breach the final doors."

"Fine. I'll meet you at the final gates." Lusiel turned, gestured towards the Imperial.

"Just like that? You're not concerned what sort of opponents you'll contend with?"

Lusiel shrugged. "No. If I fail, I'll be dead. Exactly what concerns will I have, then? However. I will not fail. So I have no concerns now, either."

Draahg blinked. The simplicity of her rationale displayed a directness, a fixed mindset who's focus was purely exceptional. "Dangerously powerful," Baras had said. Draahg watched her join her companion at the doorway, slip out and around towards the inner reaches of Vengean's chambers. Her backside was as sweetly curved as her front, he thought. He shifted, adjusting himself, thinking.

* * *

Vengean watched her enter the room, shook himself, disgusted he'd failed to take the woman as his own apprentice when he still had the chance. He should have destroyed Baras, should have seen the plots the man was spinning in his webs. He should have acted. His failure was going to cost him everything, he knew. Because this Sith walking towards him now was going to destroy him.

Baras would think he'd won. But the weapon he wielded would be turned against him soon enough. Vengean sensed that truth, exhulted over it. Because Lusiel, while strong enough to destroy Vengean, and she would, was already too strong for Baras to destroy, in turn. Not that he wouldn't try. She even knew it, anticipated it. Vengean could almost see the wheels turning in her, propelling her forward towards that inevitable confrontation.

She would not fail. Not today. And not when Baras was standing where Vengean was now, either. "Ah, Baras. You pitiful fool," Vengean thought.

"You know, everything Baras has today, he has because of you. He'd be nothing except for you." Vengean told her. "Your talents are wasted on that man. It sickens me. Your master doesn't deserve you. He's a coward, pushing buttons from the darkness. You and I are people of action."

Lusiel shook her head at him, though. "Had you acted, I wouldn't be here. You failed, Vengean. I will end you now."

Vengean actually smiled as he activated his lightsaber. She was right. What a remarkable Sith. What a legacy she would create. He wished he might have witnessed such heights for himself.

* * *

"But, master. You didn't see her!" Draahg stood in front of Darth Baras, shaking his head. "It was glorious just to watch her. Beautiful. Like water flowing, a river. She was unmatched, my own efforts were a mere backdrop, decoration. Had I done nothing at all, she would've still managed the feat. To lose control of that kind of power, rather than use it to your advantage …"

Baras shook his head. "And what would you propose, apprentice? How would you control her?"

"An alliance, master. A formal one. Marriage ties. Your two most loyal and faithful apprentices, bound always and together. And if she were to fail you, I would be close enough to finally destroy her." Draahg breathed, his anticipation palpable. Baras was actually impressed at his apprentice's shrewdness.

"A truly masterful idea, Draahg. Would that it were possible. But no. Lord Lusiel has already acted to ensure that wouldn't be possible. She surely anticipated such a control mechanism being brought to bear against her," Baras shook his head.

"How?"

"Why, Draahg. It's quite simple. She's married. Very recently, in fact. I'm sure you even met him. I've been told she rarely ventures in public without him."

Draahg sank back on his heels, thinking furiously. There was only one man he'd seen in Lusiel's company. But … no, it was impossible. "She wouldn't marry an Imperial."

Baras shrugged. "Quinn's a rather impressive Imperial, actually. I have hopes he can be utilized once Lusiel is out of the way, in fact. No, Draahg. She must be destroyed. Your desire to have her under you, in whatever capacity you take that word, will go unrealized, I'm sorry to say."


	74. Interlude of Act 2

Thoughts going as I close out Chapter 2, of course.

On Jaesa Willsaam:  
I've always been a bit confused where Jaesa is concerned. In game, she comes off as outright psychotic. To be perfectly honest, I've never enjoyed such characters. They're far too cliche-ish in the realm of evil characterizations. When I really RPG an evil character, I try to create something of real substance, rather. That made Lusiel's Jaesa something of a hindrance, if only because Lusiel has real issues with insanity and the insane. She abhors it. So I tried to describe Jaesa, here, as a confused character, rather. Vette was my vehicle to jerk her back to some sort of sense again. By the end of the chapter, Lusiel's Jaesa is darkside but not nuts, either.

On Pierce versus Quinn:  
I've seen several discussions that focus on Pierce and Quinn going at it. It's often assumed their rivalry is based on a mutual attraction to the warrior. But I don't see it that way. I think it's far more a competitive disdain that's traditional to just about every military organization I've come across over the years - the rivalry you'll find when you get an academy-trained officer and an enlisted NCO in the same room together, that is. Trust me, they don't get along very easily. That makes the one-night-thing Pierce can have with the warrior more of a manifestation of his rivalry with Quinn, rather than its origin.

Finally:  
I cleared out my videos again. Make sure to check out youtube if you're interested in seeing my newest video montage describing Lusiel. Do a search for "Lusiel - Sith Warrior Chapter 2". And enjoy.


	75. Chapter 73

"Vette, there is fur all over the ship. At this rate, we'll be able to market Broonmark's down for manufacture into pillows within the week." Quinn lifted his foot, to regard broodingly the tuft of fur stuck to his boot sole that had him skidding across the floor for one anxious moment.

"But he likes it when I brush him out!"

"I'm not sure he'll like it so much when he's bald."

Pierce glanced up from his meal of oats smothered with glazed apples and fruit compote. The Twi'lek was stomping her small foot at the Imperial, in what was surely an image no one would believe might occur anywhere in the Empire, let alone in the mess of a ship belonging to one of its fiercest Sith warriors. Quinn certainly didn't respond to Vette's audacity as any other Imperial would. He didn't twist her lekku or lash her face with a hard slap, anyway. No, he only rolled his eyes at her and spoke of a hairless Talz.

Pierce was actually amused at the utter incongruity of the exchange but he bit back his grin. Barely. Jaesa must have felt the same, because she offered a little laugh from her place at the other side of the table. Pierce glanced over at her. "He acts more like her daddy than he does the captain of the ship."

"Oh, don't say that to Vette! She'll start calling him that every chance she gets, I'd bet! It's bad enough when you imagine there will eventually be some small person running around here who calls Quinn father." Jaesa giggled at the thought.

But Pierce snorted. Giving Lord Lusiel an heir would certainly seal the deal for the captain, he supposed. It was enough to ruin his breakfast. Watching as Quinn thrust a broom into Vette's hands didn't even help soothe his growing upset with the man. Damn know-it-all officers and their maneuvering. By the time Quinn approached the table to retrieve a bowl, Pierce had built himself up into a regular fit of offended pride.

Jaesa greeted the captain as he began eating his food. "Where is Lord Lusiel this morning, Quinn?"

"She is still sleeping, actually."

"Oh. You must have kept her up too late." Jaesa tsked at Quinn with a twisted look of amusement glinting her golden eyes.

"I hardly think it's appropriate to discuss such things at the breakfast table, my lord."

"Really? Can we discuss them over dinner, then?"

"No."

"Lunch?"

"I really would like to finish eating."

Jaesa laughed outloud, which Quinn very blatantly ignored.

Pierce suddenly tossed a datapad into the center of the table. "Captain, you should read this. It's a new study out about Sith and non-Sith relationships. Did you know that Siths are over two hundred percent more likely to commit adultery than normal people?"

Silence fell like lead over the mess as everyone froze. Even Toovee's annoying whining stopped. Quinn reached over to pick up the datapad, glancing at its contents briefly. "Lieutenant, I once made the mistake of calculating my lord's talents and skills as if she were a typical Sith. I realized within very short order that there was nothing typical about her. I hope you come to the same understanding quickly." Quinn stood up. "Because if you ever insult her like that again, I will make sure you regret it."

Vette was standing by the door, her lekku twitching, as Quinn left. She grimaced when she saw his bowl of uneaten cereal and fruit left behind. "Dammit, Pierce, what the hell was that?"

"Ah, come on! Doesn't it bite you in the craw he only married her for the chance she'd advance him through the ranks? I don't have respect for officers like that, more concerned with their own place than with the battles they wage." Pierce sneered.

Vette was trembling with anger by the time he was finished. "I won't waste my time with such amazing idiocy. Hell, even Toovee is smarter than you!" She tossed the broom down and stormed out of the mess.

Pierce muttered angrily as he spun back to face his bowl again. He noticed Jaesa, then. The Sith was glaring at him from her place across the table. He gulped. He began to slowly edge himself back and away from the table.

The first blow sent him flying back into the nearby wall and sent a hard booming sound through the ship as his armor clanged wildly on impact. The second came when a chair suddenly hit him in the gut. The third actually made him let loose an "oof" when he felt his bowl thud against the side of his head.

"Exactly what is going on in here?"

Both of them looked towards the doorway of the mess to find Lusiel standing there, staring at them with a bemused expression on her face. Pierce grunted, still frozen against the wall, while oatmeal slid soddenly down the side of his face. Jaesa actually smiled. "We're playing a game, master. Would you care to join us?"

Lusiel stood there, frowning. "I'm not sure what he did but you can't break him, Jaesa."

Jaesa pouted.

"I mean it."

"Very well, master. I won't break him. Although he deserves it."

Lusiel shook her head as she turned and left.

Jaesa turned back to glare at Pierce again. He glowered at her, "What exactly do you think this will accomplish? Won't change my mind!"

She suddenly leered at him. He frowned as Jaesa canted her hip to one side, just before she began sauntering closer to his frozen position against the wall. She reached up and grasped his head, pulled him down until his mouth was aligned with hers. Pierce moaned as Jaesa began nibbling at his lower lip. She pressed herself even closer, pushed her hips up against his, pulled his thigh between her legs and began rubbing herself back and forth on him.

Jaesa laughed softly when Pierce groaned loudly against her mouth. "If I were you, lieutenant, I'd be far more concerned about your own Sith and non-Sith relationship, than my master's."

"We don't have a relationship! We fuck every so often, is all."

"Are you saying you would be all right with me – ahem – fucking someone else, then? Since that's what Sith do two hundred percent of the time, I mean."

Pierce scowled.

Jaesa laughed. "I thought so."

"I'm nothing like him, Jaesa, dammit."

Jaesa shook her head at him. "Oh, I know that, Pierce. Trust me. He loves her, after all. That's hardly what I'd expect from you." Pierce scoffed but she only stared at him. He frowned, thoughtful. He understood Jaesa's abilities too well to completely discount her assurance over the question. Jaesa finally turned and started walking out of the room, leaving an oatmeal-slathered Pierce to slowly slide down into a heap on the floor.


	76. Chapter 74

"You will bow to me when in the presence of outsiders, or you will be punished severely. Am I understood?" Darth Baras was glaring at her from behind that mask, she just knew it. Why he was pressing for this motion on her part, though. Well, that was confusing.

She looked up at him, spoke firmly, her eyes cold. "I speak Basic." Lusiel felt Quinn's alarm, heard his step as he shifted closer to her. She remained uncowed, though, staring at Baras without blinking.

"Such posturing is petty. Why must you task me? This is a time of greatness for us, apprentice." Baras scolded. Lusiel pursed her lips together. "We are at war, after all. The Dark Council has placed me in charge and battles are even now raging across the galaxy. You and Lord Draahg will oversee the most crucial confrontations. Draahg is already deployed. Now I will unleash you."

Like a dog, Lusiel thought snidely. "Where are you sending me?"

She listened as Baras described her return to the planet of Quesh, vaguely. She mostly left it to Quinn and Pierce to consider. Rather, she studied her master, watched his movements and his mannerisms, judged his feelings when she could. Baras was lying. She could feel the deceit like it was a blanket reaching out to envelop her, smothering her. She glanced at her apprentice, saw Jaesa frowning at Baras, too.

Was Baras finally going to try and kill her? Not that she wondered why. The man would be an idiot if he didn't try to kill her, actually. She'd call Baras any dozen insulting names. But idiot wouldn't be one of them.

"I find myself nostalgic, sending my most prized apprentice off to war. This is the culmination of everything we've done." Baras actually did sound emotional as he spoke. How touching.

"The poignancy of this moment is not lost on me, master." Lusiel was actually remembering the first time she met Baras, that long ago day back on Korriban. She'd known that day she'd be forced to fight against Baras, that it was only a matter of time. Finally, the moment was upon her.

"Poignancy. You've hit on the perfect word to describe where we are, my friend. I bid you farewell."

Coward, Lusiel thought. Darth Baras remained the poorest excuse for a Sith she'd ever known. Too much of a damn weakling to come out from behind his mask, to face his enemies head on, to do anything whatsoever to actually fight. Vengean was right. He sat hidden in the shadows, like a fat spider in the middle of a web, growing fat off the labors of others dumb enough to become trapped in his glutinous manipulations.

It was time to play the game for real, to squash the bug she'd too long called master.

* * *

"Have you lost your mind?" Quinn was angry. He gripped her arms, shook her slightly. She tried shaking her head at him, but he waved his hand, refused to let her speak. "No. If you believe Baras is going to try and harm you, I have to be there. Lusiel! Dammit!"

"It's a trap, Quinn! I know it! It's a cloying thing, this knowing. It feels like a noose going around my neck. But I can't discern how the attack will come. It's better if you stay behind, provide security here at the ship. If something happens to me you can come and help." Lusiel nodded.

"That's absurd." Quinn began pacing, his mind working fast, mental doors flying open as he began laying out plans. "There won't be a move against the ship, if you're not on it. No, an attack will be made while you're away, apart from the crew, if only because he's sure you're weakened that way."

She began to argue again, but Quinn reached out and held her shoulders, looked directly into her eyes. "Listen to me, Lusiel! He'll do his best to hurt you. I have to be there. It has to be _me_. None of the others could heal you if it was necessary."

Lusiel hung her head. She was acting irrationally, making an emotionally charged decision, rather than a strategic one. She knew Quinn was capable. She had to trust him, rather than the sense of disaster that was gradually engulfing her. She nodded. "Gather the supplies you think most useful, Malavai. Be prepared."

Quinn pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her. "It will be all right."

"Just go. Hurry. Before I change my mind. You have no idea how much my senses are screaming at me right now."

Lusiel watched as Quinn turned and left the bridge. She waited several moments, standing idly in front of the viewport, gazing at the planet of Quesh below. Then she sat at the communications terminal. "Have arrived at Quesh, where I'm facing an uncertain task. I'm positive this is a trap. If anything happens to me, I leave it to you to ensure my husband is kept secure. He is to have all that I possessed. I love you." She coded the message, using algorithms they'd long since designated secure, and pressed send.


	77. Chapter 75

The Republic soldiers were putting the final touches on the explosives as they crouched down, there in the dust and rocks. Lusiel cocked her head, watching them for a moment. They were chatting with each other, their face masks making their voices scratchy and metallic-sounding.

"Are we active? Is that mysterious problem resolved?"

"Sir, best guess is yes. All systems appear to be online. Your detonator should be active."

"Then let's pack up. We'll blow this cavern and the Imperial command center sky high."

As if that was going to happen, Lusiel thought, stepping forward to face the soldiers. She sneered at them, watched them stumble back, shocked. "Only cowards fight from the shadows," Lusiel snapped, as Quinn stepped close behind her.

"Sir, we've been discovered!"

"Stow it! We knew this was a possibility. Sith, I'm prepared to detonate those explosives, even if it means we all die. Back off!" The Republic squad's leader raised the detonator switch menacingly.

Lusiel shrugged. "Go ahead."

"You've wandered into your own funeral. I'm throwing the switch!" The officer pressed the detonator button. Lusiel's raised her eyebrow when the the thing clicked and nothing happened. Quinn sighed behind her. "Come on! Dammit, work!" Click … click … click …

"If you want to die so badly, let me oblige you." Lusiel pulled her lightsaber free, watched its red glow illuminate the faces of the soldiers in front of her. She smiled.

The explosives engineer stumbled back, crying out pitifully as Lusiel flung her lightsaber towards him, watching it impact the side of his head, splitting his skull like it was a ripe fruit. She force pulled the weapon back, thrilled to its wild call, and flung herself into a leap at the next soldier. He felt her boots strike his shoulders and went down like a rock, yelping madly. He tried raising his rifle only to watch Lusiel's swing take the entire front half of his weapon off as if it were nothing more troubling than a stick of butter.

He yelled, throwing the butt of his weapon towards her head. Lusiel ducked, lashing out with her lightsaber at the third soldier even as she balanced on the downed man. Quinn's blaster rang out loudly as he fired, and Lusiel felt the man beneath her feet jerk as the shot hit him in the side of the head. She continued striking at the third fellow, though. He opened his mouth, trying to cry out when Lusiel's lightsaber sank into his stomach. But blood gushed from his mouth and his cry turned into a wet gurgle.

The squad's leader was crouched back at the explosives, frantically working to detonate the bombs. He was mumbling. "Has to work, it has to! Come on …! Work, blast it! Just work!"

Lusiel pointed at him. "Let me put you out of your misery." Her force struck him hard, flung him back against the far cavern wall. His body made a hard thud against the wall. He coughed. Lusiel heard him praising the Republic, even as she choked his last breaths from him. He fell into a sorry lump onto the floor, at the last.

Lusiel gestured towards Quinn, saw him smile as they turned to go. He'd walked several paces in front of her when her commlink began to trill. They both froze. Lusiel watched Draahg's image appear on her comm. She frowned at him. "Why are you bothering me?"

"I have a mission of my own, of course. That Republic captain was sent here by one of Baras' Republic moles. The explosives he set up were not wired to his own detonator. I have the real switch to set off the bombs. It was all an elaborate trap."

Lusiel sneered at him. "Draahg, I'm going to kill you if you do this."

He laughed back at her. "Well that would be a truly amazing trick, now wouldn't it. Mind you, I had hoped we could … well, work something out. It's really too bad you lowered yourself to wed an Imperial instead, though."

She shrugged. "Trust me, Draahg. You're a worm in comparison to my husband."

"You'll soon find out. You'll both be buried alive. Together."

"You're as much a coward as Baras is. I'll enjoy making you pay for this."

Draahg grinned. "He did say you were his fiercest. I consider it a privilege he's allowing me to pull the trigger. Baras does send his regards, however. Goodbye."

Lusiel watched as Draahg raised his hand, displaying a detonator switch. She heard the click and then the first explosion. She spun, maddened, sent Quinn flying with a huge force push towards the opening of the cavern. She heard him cry out her name, heard another explosion. Then another. A large rock fell from the top of the cavern's roof, struck her shoulder, breaking the bone with an obscene crunching sound. Lusiel screamed as she fell. She lay on the ground, watching flames shoot over her head. She heard the champing sounds of metals tearing apart, watched a long thin pipe come loose from the machine parts above her. The pipe flew at her, hit her across the chest. Pain exploded as her ribs broke under the crushing force of the blow. And everything went dark.

* * *

Lusiel saw some light eeking through her weary eyelids.  
She blinked, tried to clear her vision. Failed.  
Her chest hurt.  
Two faces appeared above her. Sith. Purebloods. Red skin and eyes. Staring down at her.  
She heard them speaking to each other.

"Interest justified. Shall I revive?"

Pause.

"Offer no help. We must be sure."

Darkness descended again. Wake up, Lusiel!

"If she survives the trek to safety, then her worth will be established."

She saw them again. The Sith Purebloods. She blinked at them.  
She felt them. Powerful. Judging her.  
She felt … another presence. It was far away.  
An _awesome_ power, licking against her senses. More judgement.  
Then it was gone.  
Just the two Sith now.

She tried to speak.  
"Malavai."

But everything went dark again


	78. Chapter 76

Quinn came to awareness when the ground rumbled underneath him. He coughed, felt his lungs protesting. The air was saturated with smoke and dust. "Lusiel!" He looked around, frantic. A heavy metal pipe was shattered above him, leaning haphazardly against the cavern wall aside him. The blasted thing had served as a barrier against other debris, preventing him from being crushed.

He hissed as he began dragging himself out from under the metal and rocks. His side ached. He looked down, saw a dusty tear in his coat on the right side of his abdomen. He muttered to himself, "Blunt trauma. Interior bleeding is certain. Possible liver damage. Probably caused by a falling rock."

He yanked up his sleeve, exposed his marriage cuff. He depressed a catch on the side, watched as it began blinking. He followed the signal, calling to Lusiel, calling his wife. He maneuvered through the debris, pushed aside several rocks. He climbed over another large pipe. Then he saw her, heard the responding beeping coming from her matching armlet. "Lusiel!" He reached her, pulled a pipe that was laying across her chest up and off of her, tossed it aside.

The ground rumbled again. Quinn glanced up, saw the shaking ceiling above him. He yanked his pack open, pulled out his scanner. Lusiel's shoulder was broken and dislocated, an obvious concussion injury. But it was her chest that was in the most trouble. Five ribs were broken and her lungs had been punctured in three separate locations. She was suffocating on her own blood.

Quinn worked rapidly to stabilize her. He programmed his medical probe carefully, watched it begin to work at inflating her right lung so that she could breath again. He felt breathless for a moment, watched as stars appeared in his vision, blinked quickly and shook his head. He pulled a stim from the pack, applied it to his side.

Another quake of the ground. He glanced down at the droid, saw it blinking in success. Lusiel was breathing. Barely. She needed to be in a kolto tank. He had to move her. He leaned over, carefully picked her up. He cradled her against his chest. He followed the path he'd cleared through the rubble to reach her, found the corridor leading out of the cavern. The ground continued shaking even as he moved along, rocks trembling down the sides of the wall. He moved steadily, surely, holding her against him.

He refused to let her go.

* * *

Vette responded to Quinn's call. "What did you forget this time …? Quinn? What the hell? Quinn!"

Pierce dropped the rifle butt he was working over with a cloth as Vette's cry sounded through the ship. He began rushing through the hallway of the ship towards the holoterminal in the lounge. He raced to Vette's side, saw she was crying.

Quinn's image showed him kneeling on the ground, Lord Lusiel lying across his thighs. They were outside what looked to be a cave opening. They were both obviously injured. Lusiel wasn't even moving. Was she dead? Quinn had blood on his lips and he was holding his side. They were dusty, dirty. Quinn was talking.

"Vette, stop. Lieutenant, we need retrieval. You must be quick. I'm sending our coordinates now. And lieutenant?" Quinn looked at him. "Don't trust anyone but Vette and Jaesa. No one. Do you understand?"

"I understand, captain. We're on the way. Sit tight."

"I'm not moving."

Quinn's image blinked out. Pierce moved. Vette followed him, watched as he tossed on his armor and helmet, pulled out his weapons and strapped them on.

"Baras did this, Pierce. He tried to kill her." Jaesa was stunned.

"Jaesa, that's not as important right now. We have to get them back to the ship before whoever did this realizes they're still alive and vulnerable. Do you understand?" Pierce looked at her, utterly serious.

Jaesa nodded. Battle was good. It invigorated, it thrilled. Better to focus on possible battle, to _do_ something. "What do you want me to do?"

"You'll come with me. We'll retrieve them via speeder. You must be prepared to defend them from possible attack. Vette, listen to me! You have to remain here, secure the ship. If anyone but us tries to get onto the ship, kill them. Do you both understand?"

Vette and Jaesa nodded. Pierce grunted, grabbed a blade, stuck it into the sheath on his right boot. "Let's move."


	79. Chapter 77

"We are impressed. You are worthy to be the Emperor's Wrath."

Lusiel studied the speaker, observed his blood red skin, his rich red eyes gleaming at her. Beside him, his hooded companion remained silent. But she could just discern his golden eyes shining back at her, his expression fascinated as it slid over her.

Quinn pressed close behind her, his concern aching through to her. His hand was clenched on the butt of his blaster, but he wisely kept it holstered on his side. Pierce took up a guarded stance near the doorway to the bunker, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. She knew he was prepared to snatch his rifle free and start firing if need be. Beside him, Jaesa was standing with her mouth hanging open, staring at the two Sith, her golden gaze demonstrating her interest with appalling clarity. But she clutched her lightsaber preparedly, all the same.

_Her_ people, she thought, satisfied.

"You've got to the count of three to explain yourselves. I saw you. Why have you followed me? What do you want?" Lusiel was impatient.

She'd awakened in the medical bay on the ship, dripping wet from the moisture of the kolto tank. Quinn was hovering over her, his blue eyes shining brilliantly with emotion. She felt for him, gauged the level and strength of his pained concern, whispered, "Were you hurt?" He'd shrugged as if it were unimportant, which gave her her answer and fired her anger to new and awesome levels. Behind Quinn, the assembled members of her crew began talking all at once.

None of them were comfortable with her determination to trek to the command post to find the Purebloods she remembered seeing in the cavern. It didn't help that she couldn't explain her need to seek them out. Quinn argued with her right there in front of everyone, insisting the Purebloods were somehow compelling her. Lusiel had felt pure rage at this newest example of Quinn's agitation, his behavior so unlike him only emphasizing how effected, how pained he'd been.

"I _have_ to. That's the end of it." Lusiel had declared, standing firmly before them. It was then they'd begun planning and gathering weapons. They would all be here, except that both Quinn and Pierce insisted Vette remain on the ship with Broonmark to ensure its security, as well. She was the one who worked best with the Talz, Quinn pointed out.

Lusiel had remained silent as they went about preparing and moving. She was contemplative, concentrating on the sense she'd gotten of that _other_ presence as she lay down there, hurt and barely aware. It had been vastly powerful, even distant as it was. It was _that_ presence which compelled her to seek out the Purebloods. Refusing that power simply wasn't possible, even if acting contrary to her own determination offended her so thoroughly.

"We are your ally, friend. I am Servant One. This is Servant Two." The bareheaded Pureblood spoke evenly, assuredly, as he gestured towards his hooded companion. "We are the Emperor's Hand. The Dark Council runs blind. We alone oversee the Emperor's will in the galaxy."

"What does that have to do with me?"

Servant Two responded. "You have been called."

Lusiel glanced at him. She could barely discern his eyes underneath the hood. But she sensed the merest hint of that _other_ presence whenever she caught his gaze. She saw his nostrils flare as he took in her focused stare, saw his eyes widen.

"The Emperor tasks the Hand with a great undertaking, and you are to become his Wrath." Servant One intoned. "Darth Baras seizes power against the Emperor's wishes. He must be stopped."

"You sense the truth. You feel _his_ presence." Servant Two stepped forward, reaching out to touch Lusiel. But Quinn tensed, pressing even closer to Lusiel. Servant Two glanced at the Imperial, nodded and stepped back.

Servant One grunted approvingly, taking in the gathering of Lusiel's people. "You have won an impressive degree of loyalty from your followers. Another sign of your strength. We approve."

Lusiel raised her chin. "Tell me what Baras is trying to do."

"The betrayer plays Emperor." Servant Two said. Lusiel frowned at him, confused. Servant One took the time to explain his meaning. The Emperor, he said, had withdrawn from direct dealings since the Treaty of Coruscant, preparing some monumental undertaking. With the Emperor silent, Baras had seized the opportunity to claim the Emperor was speaking through him. He claimed to be the Voice of the Emperor.

How like Baras, Lusiel thought. The manipulative bastard.

"What is the Voice of the Emperor?" Lusiel pondered, thinking.

"The Voice is the conduit for the Emperor's words. The Emporer chooses one being to physically embody. That being is the Voice. It is obeyed as the Emperor himself." Servant One clarified.

"But the true Voice has been … silenced." Servant Two spoke mournfully.

"And in its absence, there is nothing to deny Baras' claim."

Lusiel canted her head, thinking. They didn't say the Voice was dead. Trapped? How would someone trap the being who embodied the Emperor himself? Was it even possible? "Are you sending me to free him?"

Servant One narrowed his eyes at her. She didn't assume the Voice was dead, surmised correctly, rather. Interesting. "In time. For now, it is essential to undermine Baras' efforts. He seeks support on the Dark Council. Some on the Council truly believe; others see an advantage in supporting him; and Baras plots against those who oppose him."

"The Wrath must build before reaching pitch." Servant Two interjected.

Lusiel sighed. Moving in song and concert, her lightsaber in hand, as Servant Two intimated – that was motion she understood. It was soothing, easy, comfortable. The value of purpose, of having carefully positioned herself, that was something she understood implicitly. She nodded as the understanding settled, the correctness of her course became clear.

That _other_ presence sang to her, so briefly she nearly missed it except it was so incredible a feeling. She was judged worthy. It was right.

* * *

They watched the new Wrath leave.

"Blood they share, unknowing."

Servant One nodded. "She looks much as her sister does, yes."

"Scourge serves the other now."

Servant One frowned, angered at the thought of such betrayal. "In time, he'll face the Emperor's Wrath, who wears the face of his new master. She will punish him."

"As it should be."


	80. Chapter 78

They gathered together in the lounge, tense and restless. Lusiel considered them all, her dark gaze sliding between them. Vette's lekku were twitching, of course. She kept bobbling against the bench she was leaning on. Of course she'd be the first to say something, Lusiel smiled.

"Those Hand weirdoes kind of creep me out. Are we really going to sign up for this?" Vette blurted. Lusiel was gratified she included herself in the signing effort, actually.

"Vette, everything's changed. We knew it would happen eventually. Here we are, then. My old Master is my new enemy." Lusiel nodded.

"Well, I for one am happy for this development, master. We climb closer to the Emperor. Closer to ultimate power." Jaesa's eyes were gleaming. Pierce wasn't so sanguine. But he still shrugged towards Lusiel, admitted, "Didn't care for the old man Baras, anyway."

Broonmark warbled approvingly, too. "Vengeance feeds us. The clan will be cleansed!"

Only Quinn stayed silent. He regarded all of them, shook his head. He suddenly stood and walked firmly from the lounge into the quarters he shared with Lusiel. She watched him go, then turned back to her people again.

"The Hand will be in contact soon enough, to let us know where we need to go first. We're secure enough for now, because Baras thinks I'm dead. It won't be long before he discovers the truth, though. It's imperative you all prepare yourselves for the fight of your lives." Lusiel nodded at all of them. Then she got to her feet and followed her husband.

The lounge was silent for several moments. Jaesa finally sprang up. "I should try meditating on the day's events." They watched her moving excitedly to her quarters, although Vette snorted. "Even I can tell she's so not going to meditate. Come on, Broonmark. I'll brush your coat." The Talz obediently followed the Twi'lek. Pierce sat there, looking after Jaesa. Then he jumped, startled, when Toovee suddenly insisted, "Do you require some assistance, sir?" Pierce glared at the droid. "Dammit! Go cook something! You're at least good at _that_." Pierce waved Toovee away.

Then he moved towards Jaesa's quarters, pulling at the buckles of his breastplate as he went. He didn't knock, just opened the door and stepped inside. Jaesa spun around to face him, trembling. She snarled at him, "What are you doing in here? Get out!" But Pierce just dropped his breastplate onto the floor next to the door.

"You're shaking, Jaesa. Meditate, my ass. Try coming up with a better excuse next time." He shook his head at her as he stepped closer to her, his hands moving to lift his shirt over his head.

"Don't you dare! I'm not in the mood."

Pierce chuckled. "Oh, yes, you are. You want it so much you're about to come just thinking about it."

"Damn you! You don't tell me how I'm feeling!" Jaesa swung out just as Pierce came close enough, her palm smacking smoothly against his cheek, spinning his head around. He laughed at her, then.

"Harder, Jaesa. You know how much I like it. Leave marks this time. Feels good to see them later on and know you put them there."

Jaesa spun around, dramatically ignoring him. She crossed her arms over her chest. "I hate you, Pierce."

"I love the way you hate me, though. Do it some more." Pierce grabbed her from behind, pushed her forward over the edge of her bed. He yanked at the lower edge of her robe, pulling it up over her long legs, baring her backside to his view. He hummed as he took in the sight of her buttocks rising sweetly into the air, watched her wiggle under his heated gaze.

Jaesa grumbled, pushed herself up, trying to knock Pierce back from where he was pressed against her backside. He growled down at her in response, pushed her back down and yanked her arms around behind her. He gripped her wrists in one of his meaty hands, held her in place. Then he slapped her resoundingly on the right cheek of her upraised ass.

Jaesa bucked against him, shrieking angrily. But Pierce groaned as he felt her wiggling against his groin. He ground himself into her, then slapped her again. "Come on, Jaesa. You're really exciting me." He reached under her, ran his fingers along the seam of her sex, grunted as he took note of her wetness there. He thrummed her clit quite happily for several moments, listened to her trying to muffle her moans against the bed.

Pierce reached for the front of his pants. Jaesa yelped as she listened to him unbuckling the clasp of his armored leg pieces, heard them clink as they hit the floor. "Get off me, you oaf!" She reared back against him, then gasped as she felt her ass gliding over his naked thighs. Pierce chuckled again, leaning over to whisper in her ear. "Yea, I like it, too."

They both moaned as he pressed himself into her.

"You in the mood now, Jaesa?"

"Dammit, Pierce. Do it!"

"Do what? What do you want me to do?"

Jaesa twisted underneath him, snarled. "Just fuck me!"

"Oh, yea. I can do that."

* * *

Broonmark huddled in his comfortable space in the cargo area of the ship, its temporary walls working to ensure that the temperature in his corner was sweetly cold. All around him the floor was littered with clumps of his fur that the Twi'lek had brushed from him, creating what amounted to a nest where he could rest himself.

He sat there, crooning softly to the small blue one everyone called Vette. She'd crawled into his arms after brushing him, and fallen asleep. She was finally quiet. Not that Broonmark disliked her constant chattering. He actually enjoyed the way she didn't hesitate to talk to him, rather than assuming he couldn't understand what he was being told.

Vette was the only one who consistently spent time with him, made him feel less alone on the ship. He liked her. Lord Lusiel approved of their friendship, too. He knew it, because she'd patted him when she noticed he was kind to the little creature. She'd said, "I expect you to keep her safe from harm, Broonmark." He welcomed the task. Vette was pleasant enough when she brushed his fur and she entertained him with her chatter.

But it also meant he had a good excuse to kill clan enemies when they were stupid enough to threaten the little Twi'lek. Life was good.

* * *

Quinn was pacing when Lusiel entered their quarters. She watched him, counting the turns he made as he went back and forth. For the first time, she was completely unsure what he was thinking. So she just stood there, confusedly watching him.

"Why are you angry with me?" Lusiel said impatiently.

Quinn stopped, faced her. "You received a message while you were recovering in the kolto. I decrypted it. The sender requested immediate confirmation of your welfare. I believe his exact words were, 'You'd better let me know you're all right or I will come find you.' He included a time limit for your response."

Lusiel grinned at him. "Are you jealous?"

"No." Quinn ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't know! I don't even know what to feel! I feel lost in my own head! Every time I close my eyes I see you floating there in the tank. Or worse, the way you were laying there in the damn dirt. The dirt!" He spun around and slammed a fist down onto the desk, rattling the datapads she'd stacked there.

Quinn hung his head. "He tried to kill you. Even though you were loyal. Even after I … Damn him!"

"Malavai." Lusiel breathed his name. She stepped close, reached up to touch his face in a gesture she'd been making since their first days together, running her fingers up and along his jaw to push his hair back against his brow and tickle the edge of his ear. She leaned up to let her mouth follow the same path, nibbling against his jaw. Then she whispered into his ear, "He tried to kill me. Tried. He failed. Now I'll kill him. And no one will gainsay me. Not with the Emperor backing me."

He groaned, gripped her shoulders, crushed his lips against her mouth. They kissed wildly, began pulling at each other's clothes. Lusiel heard something rip, looked down as Quinn bared her breasts and lowered his mouth to take her nipple between his teeth. She held the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair and holding him to her.

She tossed her head back, laughed out loud to the ceiling. She exhulted at the thrill coursing through her, the enjoyment of touching him, feeling him touch her. She was alive, and she had him against her again, his warm mouth moving on her.

He lifted her, his arms clasping her under her rear so that he didn't lose his hold on her breast as he moved her to the bed. He laid her down, there, reaching to yank off the rest of her clothes. She heard more ripping. She saw him smiling as he stood next to the bed. He pulled his shirt over his head, kicked off his boots and pushed his pants down his lean legs, looking at her throughout. She grinned, crooked a finger at him invitingly, spreading her legs in front of him. Quinn groaned, his eyes darkening to blue-black brilliance.

Naked, he reached for her. But Lusiel shook her head, gripping his hands to pull him towards her. She spun him until he lay on his back, straddled his hips, and reached to pull his hands to her breasts. He fondled her nipples, pulling them smoothly. Then he moaned, "Put me inside you now." She smiled, reaching behind her to grip his erection. She rubbed him, smoothing the skin over his hardness. "Lusiel!"

Lusiel laughed briefly as she raised herself up, placing him against her before beginning to slide down onto him. He arched under her, groaning as he felt himself engulfed. He reached down to grip her hips, held her in place on him, luxuriating in the warmth of her.

"I almost lost you," he whispered.

"I'm right here, Malavai," she whispered back.

Then she started moving, riding him, sliding her hips up and down over him. She raised herself up until he almost came free of her, then dropped herself back down. She repeated the motion over and over, as he came apart beneath her, groaning at the feel of her. He lost control, using his hold on her waist to move her on him, hard. Then harder. He pushed himself up into her, twisting his pelvis against her clit, watched her face as the pleasure bloomed and she cried out his name, coming wildly. Feeling her tighten around him so incredibly was enough. Quinn moaned, threw his head back against the bed, and spent himself inside of her.

Lusiel collapsed onto his chest, and Quinn held her there. They both panted madly, their bodies glistening with sweat. He smoothed his hand up and down along her spine, felt himself drifting into sleep. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes. Lusiel listened to his heartbeat settling. She yawned.

She should let her brother know his algorithms weren't effective against her husband's decryptions. Perhaps. Maybe not.


	81. Chapter 79

Pierce was apprehensive. He'd been gratified when Lord Lusiel supported his efforts to reconstitute his old team, so that they might finally assault the Republic's base of operation, the Bastion, on Corellia. But that was before discovering several of his team's members had been imprisoned on Belsavis.

Figures, too. Lieutenant Jakir was the team's medic and Sergeant Cole worked the team's communications. They were captured on Coruscant, where a bunch of Sith had been working to uncover artifacts in the ruined Jedi Temple. The Republic shoulda killed them, Pierce thought. But that was their stupid mistake. Instead the men were dumped on Belsavis, along with several of the soldiers captured with them on the Republic home world.

Pierce thought Belsavis was a right pretty world, actually. The trees were huge towering structures. He'd seen some soldiers actually camping on top of the roots of several rather immense specimens, in fact. Everything was green and warm, though, while the sun seemed to shine brightly all the time. If it weren't for the raving lunatics fighting each other around every corner – oh, and the walls that seemed to impede your progress every single blasted time you tried moving an inch forward – well, then Belsavis might be considered a true jewel of a planet. For now, he trotted to catch up to his Sith commander.

Lord Lusiel was arguing with what looked to be an enterprising quartermaster type who was selling various weapons in front of the Imperial command post when Pierce came upon her. The captain was next to her, of course, while Vette and Jaesa sat nearby, calmly watching the vehement shouting match that Lusiel seemed to be enjoying.

That was another thing Pierce didn't understand about the Sith Lord he was serving, too. She had monies enough. She certainly had a cruel and vicious authority. She could outright buy anything she wanted. Or just take it. What sort of vendor anywhere in the Empire would seriously refuse her? Yet Lusiel engaged countless shop owners in these exchanges, almost all of which devolved into bickering. Jaesa told him the arguments amused Lusiel. It still confused Pierce, though.

"This is obviously a Sith shield device! Do you see the markings on these modifications, here? If someone isn't careful, such a device would do them serious harm. The entire thing reeks of the Dark Side, after all. What possible reason would you sell it for so much?" Lusiel shook her head.

"It's precisely because of its rarity, actually. Not easy to come by a piece of Sithy equipment, now is it?" The vendor shot back at her, his narrow weasel-like face pinched.

"Sithy? Is that even a word?"

"It is in my book. You going to buy the thing, or not?"

"Oh, no. I was rather hoping you might sell it to someone else, so that I could watch them try to use it. The sheer catastrophe would be highly entertaining."

The vendor snorted at her as Lusiel chuckled.

Pierce clutched his datapad carefully as Lord Lusiel turned and saw him standing there. He swallowed as she nodded towards the wall where Vette and Jaesa were sitting. Quinn was frowning at him as they all gathered together.

"I sincerely hope you don't have more studies about Sith and non-Sith to share with us, lieutenant." Quinn said, his eyes hard as he regarded the datapad Pierce was holding.

Lusiel looked at him, obviously confused. "What sort of studies?"

Shit, Quinn would ruin it by describing the stupidity of that old insult now, Pierce thought. He was actually surprised Lusiel hadn't heard of it already, actually. Surely Quinn would've described it to her, wouldn't he? Pierce almost growled in frustration as he waited for Quinn's bombshell. But the captain merely shrugged.

"It's not important, my lord. Believe me."

Lusiel shrugged. "Very well. What is it, lieutenant?"

Pierce took a deep breath, relieved, as he raised the datapad and began describing the situation. From the records he had managed to glean once they'd arrived on Belsavis, Jakir and Cole had succeeded in putting together a pretty nifty defensive position once the prison planet went to Hell and the rioting began. But their position was currently being assaulted by Republic forces. Even some sort of mercenary hires were involved, as Pierce had heard a smuggler captain and his crew were going at it, as well. It wouldn't be long before the Imperials were overrun and recaptured.

"What sort of defenses have they managed to put together?" Quinn had canted his head as he considered the information on the pad.

"Aside from the physical fortifications and the fodder of men they've recruited from the cells, it seems they've also put together a pretty impressive force field around the encampment. Not surprising. Jakir is a doctor-type but he's pretty handy with tech, too." Pierce nodded.

"It seems our medics have to be multi-talented," Lusiel said, nudging Quinn with one of her small elbows briefly.

Quinn grunted softly, nodding at the datapad. "You'll have to disable the field just to get in there long enough to address your men. That will leave all of them vulnerable to the Republic in the meantime."

"We only have to get Jakir and Cole, plus whatever small group they've managed to keep alive through this mess. The rest of 'em can hold off the Republic long enough, I'm thinking." That the prisoners left to fight the Republic afterward would be sacrificed went without saying.

"It's not a bad plan, my lord. It depends on Pierce's brute skill, of course. But he'd have to have technical expertise to assist him, too." Quinn pointed to the schematics describing the generators the Imperials had coopted to work their force field.

Lusiel was quiet as she leaned over to read through the data. She raised a brow towards Quinn, finally. "You're the only one I'd trust to adequately penetrate a field like this, captain."

"Me? My lord, we're moving deeper into Belsavis once we have the information we need to find Darth Ekkage's location from the records room where it's being stored." Quinn shook his head at her.

"Jaesa can accompany me to the records. But if we can simultaneously provide for the Empire to better succeed in its endeavors on Corellia, don't you think we should?" Lusiel knew Quinn was still smarting from Quesh. She watched him struggle, now. He frowned towards Jaesa, who stared back at him with her strange yellow eyes.

"Well, my lord. If the captain is unable to succeed at the mission, maybe we should find someone else." Pierce held his hands up in mock surrender when both Lusiel and Quinn turned and glared at him.


	82. Chapter 80

They taunted him through the door. They told him Melicost wouldn't be returning, that he had the location he needed and would win the game, free the Darth and leave Belsavis. He himself would succumb to madness and starvation trapped there behind the door, they mocked. "Like a raving animal, Jedi … that'll be you in mere days. Wonder how long you'll last. We're tempted to stick around just to listen to you begging us to get you out."

He only smiled as he listened to them, gazing about the room with its myriad computers blinking at him. He did not fear death, nor pain really. The Force would sustain his spirit, regardless. He was Jedi and he was at peace. He knelt down by the door and meditated, rather.

The first sign of disturbance reached him shortly. He cocked his head, listening to the distant muffled calls of distress coming from the other side of the door. The sounds became louder. There was … a presence approaching. Dark and compelling. And destructive.

Jedi Master Somminick Timms rose up to face the door, attentive. He knew that presence, sorrowed at its familiarity. The first time he'd felt her she'd brought that darkness against his old Master, broken him thoroughly. It had been a thoroughly painful experience, as he experienced the profundity of the loss through the bond he's shared with Nomen Karr. He continued to mourn him, and he'd wondered at the fate of Karr's young padawan, Jaesa Willsaam.

And now, it seemed, he was soon to come face to face with the architect of Karr's defeat. He sighed, flexed his shoulders, and prepared.

The screams of the dying Imperials ached through the door. Timms shook his head at the sheer waste of the exercise. The Sith seemed inclined to such destructive infighting, killing themselves and each other as much as they battled the Republic. It was beyond him the Empire found value in such profligate endeavors, constantly clashing for outright supremacy, as if any would succeed alone in the end.

For now, though, he waited. He listened as the Sith cleared the rooms out there of Melicost's commandoes, until everything was quiet, silent like the dead. She still lived, however – her strength pulsed through the Force towards him. Karr had been foolish to bash himself against it, he thought. He should have found another way.

Then she banged on the door. He chuckled when she kicked it in some sort of frustration, heard her say to someone else, with laughter in her tone, "They didn't _seem_ smart enough to know I was coming. How'd they know to bar the door?"

Humor. That was what laced the darkness of her approach. Timms was fascinated as he regarded the full feeling of her personality, so close to her as he was now. Before, he'd only managed an understanding of the shadows, the blackness of her spirit, as Karr had combatted her. He realized now there was so much more.

She laughed.

She feared, too.

Oh, and she loved.

She cared for the person she was addressing, in fact.

And others, besides.

How fascinating. Timms had always imagined Sith were monstrous bogey-men, horrid creatures that mindlessly destroyed, wreaked havoc. But this Sith impressed him with the ultimate understanding, that they were people, with all a people's feelings and faults. Dark, yes. But by their own choice and belief and through their own action. There was nothing inherent or intrinsic to their evil. Perhaps they might even be changed, brought back to the light. For what is the true nature of mankind? Good or evil?

An interesting concept he would have to ponder at some length, Timms decided.

In the meantime, he decided to introduce himself, and he did, calling to the Sith through the entry fused shut. He waited as she paused.

"Well. This just isn't your day, Jedi. I am Sith. And I need to get into that room. You're in my way." She responded.

"Oh, I sense you and your nature, believe me. I even know who you are. I was once the padawan of Master Nomen Karr. He and I forged a bond through the Force. I know of your confrontation with him and of what you did to him. I felt it." He hung his head, remembering.

She felt disgusted, he sensed. "Your Master begged like a coward and died like a dog."

Timms didn't rise to anger. He felt certain she was truly offended Nomen Karr had weakened. Had he stayed true to his ideals, died with his head up, rather, this Sith would've respected him. She might even have said so, he thought suddenly.

"He succumbed to the dark, it's true. Hard to believe such a strong Jedi reduced to such a state, although I felt it happen." He shook his head, now. "The Jedi Council has kept its sights on you ever since, you know. We are aware you've broken with Darth Baras, know that he tried to kill you on Quesh. I imagine you're here, now, for the same reason I am – to stop Baras from freeing Darth Ekkage, his sister."

"Baras may be my enemy but I am still Sith. I serve the Emperor. Do not doubt me."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of doubting you, I can sense the truth. However, you're here, as I am. We both seek information in this room. And the door is fused shut. To get what you need, we have to work together."

He heard her laughing. "You were trapped in there by these mere soldiers?"

"Oh, I don't know. There were quite a lot of them. I held my own. _I'm_ still alive."

She laughed again. He thought her laughter quite pleasant, honestly. "I think I actually like you, Jedi. What would you ask of me? Since you're correct. I need to get into that room."

Timms explained that their combined force blows could break the physical seal on the door, compel it open. "However, there's a failsafe force field that would engage if we did that. You must destroy the generators outside before we strike, in order to prevent the field from engaging."

He heard a muffled laugh coming from whoever had accompanied the Sith. Then the Sith responded to her companion. "Indeed, although I think they'll be using far more sophisticated measures against _that_ force field. We're just going to smash things. Far easier." Timms didn't understand the exchange, shrugged.

"Well, Sith?" He asked her.

"Sit tight, Jedi. I'll be back."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere. Believe me."

He heard the Sith laugh again as she began moving away. Timms glanced around the room, looked at the computers all along the walls. He activated his lightaber and moved swiftly. He understood, unlike Karr, that it was necessary to meet the Sith with some degree of leverage rather than relying upon brute force. It might not save him in the end. But it would help him complete his task, nonetheless. Then he settled down to aside the door, patient, peaceful.

Timms knew it wouldn't take her long and it didn't. She was soon standing outside the door once again. She even kicked it again. He heard her chuckle as she did it, though. She was playing. Timms found it all very amusing himself, that he was working hand in hand with a Sith.

"Are you ready, then, Sith? We should be able to force the door open now. On three. One … Two … Three!"

Timms pressed against the door with all the force power he could, pushing it like it was a mighty ball. He felt it meet with a corresponding force, the two clashing strongly against each other. Timms felt the pressure build up between them, surging, rising. Until, finally, the energy contracted, bubbled, burst. There was a mighty explosion of sound and smoke as the door shattered in on itself, crumbling under the weight of their separate efforts.

Timms coughed as gas and smoke obscured his vision for some moments. He saw the seemly shape of a female through the burning smoke of the door's debris. She was smaller than he'd imagined, actually. She only came up to his shoulders, in fact. That such strength could emanate from such a little lady was a testament of the power of the force.

Then he saw her face. Timms took a step back, momentarily shocked. For one instant, he disconcertedly wondered if she'd in fact failed to escape the Emperor's control or was actually still secretly serving him. Had she fooled them all? Then he noticed the small differences in key features – the shape of the brow, the bloom of color on this one's lips, the subtle tilt of her chin. This Sith was older, too. Although not by much, he observed.

This development was … troubling. Although not that extraordinary, either. As he recalled, she'd come to the Jedi a mere toddler. It wasn't as if her origins, let alone her parentage, were absolutely certain things. This Sith was surely a relative of hers, somehow. It was imperative he discuss this with Master Satele, Timms thought.

Then he noticed the Sith's companion. Beneficial, that. He was able to secret his shock at the Sith's appearance by concentrating on Jaesa. The girl stood behind and to the side of the Sith, covered in a robe that bared her midriff tantalizingly, invitingly, while her eyes gleamed golden with malice.

Timms noticed, though, that the Sith shot him a suspicious glance. She knew he was hiding something. Hopefully he would be able to hide it from her through to the end. Perhaps she'd kill him and the truth would remain out of her sight. But then the Council wouldn't learn the truth, either. How frustrating, he decided.

"Wait a moment … you're Jaesa Willsaam, aren't you?" Timms looked around the Sith towards Jaesa.

"I used to be," she responded, wryly.

He felt his heart break as he regarded her. So lost, he judged her. "Do you … have any regrets, young one?" He hoped, ached with it. But she only laughed.

"Are you joking? I get to meet and destroy obnoxious fools like you. What's to regret?" Jaesa's eyes twinkled at him, like gold coins, hard and glittering. Her Sith master – yes, that was the role she played in Jaesa's life now, he saw – chuckled, "Delightful! It's why we get along so well, Jaesa."

Timms shook his head at them. "Yes, I can see you're two peas in a pod."

Jaesa shuddered. "I hate peas."

The Sith laughed. What was her name, he wondered suddenly, trying to remember. Instead, he gestured towards the computer room. "So before we all start fighting and as delightful as that would be, there's something you should see, Sith." Timms cocked his head as he regarded the ruined computer banks, the slash marks of a lightsaber glaringly obvious. "Wow, they're all destroyed. I wonder who could've done such a thing?"

She laughed outloud. "How is it that Nomen Karr could've produced two such delightful and capable force users, when he himself was so deficient?"

Timms actually found himself grinning at her, her laughter was so infectious. "Now I'm the only one who knows where to go. Our goals are the same, even if our motives vary. I suggest a partnership."

"Very well." The Sith nodded. "I'll keep my anger from consuming me. For now. Once the deed is done, we're enemies once again."

"So no victory celebration?" Timms shrugged at her, pretendingly imploring. The Sith smiled at him. He sighed. "Too bad. All I'll tell for now is we're headed to the Deep Prison and we must move quickly. Darth Ekkage does have a group of assassins nearby and she'll be expecting them to join her. You may want to make sure they remain locked up as we move to intercept Lord Melicost before he can free the Darth."

"And how do I know you'll keep your word?"

"Because it's practical. And I'm nothing if not practical." Timms clenched his fists on his hips, nodding at her firmly. "You might get the assassins to step down without a fight. But me? Not so much. Here is where you can find them."

He handed her a set of coordinates, plugging the information into her datapad. She watched him with dark eyes that still unsettled him with their familiarity.

"Holo me when you're done. And then we'll meet to take on the Darths. It really will take both of us, mind you." Timms began walking from the room, ignoring the bodies of the Imperial soldiers scattered along his path. He felt her eyes on him the entire way.


	83. Chapter 81

Vette rolled her eyes at the idiot. Not that he was stupid enough to take a step closer, his eyes glued to her blasters as she raised them up to point at his face. But if he actually thought the rusty shiv he was waving around was truly intimidating her, he reallywas a complete and total idiot.

"You know, this ship belongs to a Sith Lord. Not some little wannabe badass flunky of the Empire. I'm talking a genuine Sith will-pull-yer-bleeding-heart-from-your-chest Lord. Do you honestly want to play this game with me?" She shook her lekku at him, watching his eyes the whole while.

"Shut up, ya little blue slut. We wanna get off this hunk of rock and yer standing in the way." He actually spit as he ranted. Vette was utterly disgusted. She watched him, saw him baring his teeth threateningly at her. What teeth he had left, that is.

He was a grimy specimen of human male. His hair was lank and unwashed, stringy, falling to his shoulders. He was garbed in one of the soiled yellow jumpsuits she'd seen all the prisoners on the planet wearing. But his jumpsuit looked nearly brown, it was so grungy. And he smelled. Like rotten Orokeet eggs, no less.

None of which would bother Vette so much, if it wasn't that the filthy shit-for-brains human was actually accompanied by a ring of similarly muck-ridden chums. There were a grand total of five of the bastards fighting to get onto Lusiel's ship. She could see a couple of Zabracks, one Rattataki, and two humans, including the erstwhile leader of the group who continued barking at her while waving his tarnished blade around. He was probably leading because the shiv was the deadliest weapon in the group. The rest carried clubs made from the wood of one those giant trees outside the spaceport.

And they were all rank enough that Vette felt nauseated just standing there in front of them. She was perched at the top of the ramp leading to the ships airlock, her blasters pointing down towards the smelly prisoners. She refused to glance away towards the doors of the hangar, but she did wonder where all the stupid Imperials had disappeared off to. What sort of idiots let a bunch of brainless prisoners storm their way into the Imperial spaceport's ship hangars with nothing but clubs arming them?

"Look, I'm only going to say this one more time. Because I figure even fools should have a small chance to run for it before they start dying. But this ship belongs to a Sith Lord. And she's not interested in hosting you on board. Trust me. She hates smelly people. So you need to turn yourselves around, go outside and tell the nice Imperials we chatted, and have a good friggin' I'm-lucky-to-be-alive day." Vette gestured with her blasters as she spoke. All in all, she thought it was a pretty nice speech.

"And I say we're not willing to stay on Belsavis a moment longer. So we're going to get on that ship, with you, and take you far away, where you can spend countless hours helping us make up for the years we've been stuck here without any damn women to feast our eyes on." The Rattataki growled at her. Seriously growled. She wondered if he'd actually devolved in the years he'd been on Belsavis. She eyed him, narrowly. Possible, she decided.

She began counting their steps forward, trying to determine which one would be first to reach the ramp. She thought at first it would be the human with the knife. But no. It was the gray-skinned Rattataki. He placed his foot on the very edge of the ramp and made to push himself forward, grinning as he watched her hesitate to pull the triggers on her blasters.

He didn't realize what it is she was waiting for, though. It simply never occurred to him she didn't want to accidently shoot Broonmark.

The Talz made his presence known, finally, when his vibrosword swung out, catching the Rattataki in the chest and bodily lifting him so that he sailed through the air to land with a huff against a nearby cargo container. The other men began screaming out as the beastly Talz followed through on his momentum, lopping off the head of the poor human carrying a club and then shooting one of his electronic shocks at a Zabrack. He jumped through the air then, landing on the twitching Zabrack with a warbling yell of triumph, where he began clawing and ripping at the fellow with his bare hands.

Vette fired her blasters at the shiv-carrying asshole, then. She watched a series of holes open up in the man's chest as his wide-open toothless mouth screamed in agony. The other Zabrack made to run at Broonmark's back but Vette spun and aimed, firing her blasters towards the idiot, the shots working to spin him madly in a circle before he fell dead at the back of Broonmark's feet.

Vette eyed the Talz, then. Broonmark was standing up, holding the horns he'd ripped off the head of the Zabrack he'd clawed to death. He marched over to the Rattataki, carrying the horns in his hands. The gray man watched him coming, gasping for breath through his broken ribs. Broonmark laughed down at him as he swung out with the horns, catching the Rattatki squarely on each side of his face, making a loud crunching noise as his blows impacted the man's head and leaving him to grin ghoulishly around the bloody holes in his two cheeks. He screamed and gurgled around the blood, dying quickly, as Broonmark snarled at him. "Sith clan is stronger! You die!"

It took Vette several minutes to calm the raging Talz. Eventually, they began cleaning and straightening the area around the ship's ramp. By the time that Pierce and Quinn wearily approached the ship, the bodies of the prisoners were stacked neatly in a row right alongside the ship. The sign Vette placed near them read, "Seriously: stay away from our Sith Lord's ship."

* * *

**Note: I realize there's actually an orbital station for the Belsavis missions. But that never made sense to me, honestly. Why would the Republic tolerate the construction of an Imperial orbital station right over their prison planet, I mean? So I decided to go with this, that the Imperials created a landing area for their ships on the surface of Belsavis. Which would inevitably lead to instances such as this one, I think. Hence, my take, here, on why Vette and Broonmark usually stay with the ship, lol.**


	84. Chapter 82

Quinn found Pierce in the mess, watching a holo presentation of the latest Huttball game while messily eating a bantha burger with hubba chips. He idly noted the Rotworms were winning the game, right before he switched the holo off.

"Hey!" Pierce turned to glare at him.

"Lieutenant, we have duties that must be seen to. Ensure that your team mates are being properly transported off Belsavis. I would hate to lose them back to the Republic when we've only just secured them, after all." Quinn took a moment to glare right back at Pierce.

From her vantage at end of the table, Vette chuckled as she watched the two men bristling at each other. To her, they looked like nothing more than a pair of Nerfs preparing to charge at each other. She looked around the mess, decided there wasn't enough space to allow them to go at it, despite how amusing she thought it might be to watch. Almost as thrilling as Huttball, perhaps, thinking of the one player she'd seen do a mighty leap onto the upper ledge of the zone to beat on the ball carrier during that last match.

Still. Vette waved one of her hands into the fray. "Whoah, there, guys. Careful we don't ruin the table, okay?" She grinned when they both shot her deadly glances. "Ouch."

Quinn returned his attention to Pierce. "You have responsibilities, lieutenant. See to them."

Pierce almost threw what was left of his burger at the captain's back as he marched back out of the mess. "The man's a damn robot. I doubt he cares squat for anything as much as he does his precious 'duties'. Burns me up." He snorted, even as he grabbed a last bite of his sandwich and prepared to leave.

Vette shrugged. "He's pretty nervous actually. He's not used to being left behind while Lord Lusiel's on a mission."

"Are you kidding? He's emotionless! Didn't you see him?"

She shook her head at him. "No, he just doesn't think the way you do. His brain functions more like a datapad. He only pulls out those files he can actually handle thinking about and keeps everything else filed away. Right now, he's totally focused on the one labeled 'W' for work."

"And the one labeled 'M' for marriage?"

"That isn't the one he's having a hard time with at the moment. More like 'L' for Lusiel, rather. That's the one he's hiding from. Because he can't stand thinking she's out there hunting down enemies and he isn't there to keep her safe from harm. It's driving him nuts."

Pierce gaped at her. "I can't see him like that."

"Of course you don't. Your mind is more like a friggin' hammer. Everything is blunt and aggressive and just right there all the time. I bet you're not even worried about Jaesa, are you?"

"Why would I be? It would make more sense to worry about the sorry asses who get in her way, actually."

"Yea, but you never saw Jaesa floating in a kolto tank after carrying her out of a cave that almost collapsed on top of her head, either."

Pierce frowned at the Twi'lek. Damn the girl, he thought. Why couldn't she just be the brainless twit everyone took her for? That would be so much easier than being forced to actually think after she talked to him.

* * *

Lusiel sighed heavily as she regarded the armored commandoes disabling the locks on the cell doors imprisoning the Sith. Beside her, Jaesa nodded. "Wouldn't be as much fun, master, unless we had to deal with the soldiers _and_ the Sith."

"And that's what I live to provide for you, Jaesa. Loads of fun."

"I'm grateful, believe me."

Lusiel smiled at her, drily. "Well, let's introduce ourselves, shall we?"

The two women were bold as they stepped into the cell where the Sith were just meeting their Commando rescuers. One of the Sith turned his bald head to regard her as she approached, inclining his face slightly, thoughtful. He grunted to the Commando next to him, "A Sith comes. I sense hostility. Your rescue has been sniffed out, Imperial."

The soldier got a frantic look on his face. "We're prepared to defend you, my lord." But the Sith waved his hand, appearing bored.

"Actually, I'd like to hear what this Sith intends. Stay still, Imperial." Then the man looked towards Lusiel. She regarded him, judged him. He was a slight figure, with graying skin. She sensed his power and capability, however. His two companions were silent behind him, both male and hooded. It was difficult to discern their features, although she noted their skin was pale and both sported beards. Lusiel had no doubt fighting the three men would prove a difficult adventure.

Lusiel canted her head towards them, determinedly. She would not hesitate, if fighting was necessary, and her resolve was achingly obvious. The soldiers remained tense, in fact. But the Sith were calm as they watched her. Oh, yea, she thought. Baras couldn't be allowed that sort of strength. "My authority comes from the highest station. I am the Emperor's Wrath."

Lusiel sensed their surprise, watched as the Sith frowned at her thoughtfully. The leader finally nodded. "There is truth to what you say. I can feel it. But I sense hostility towards my mistress, Darth Ekkage."

She shrugged. "All you need to know is that our supreme master is displeased with your mistress."

He shook his head. "No. I will be on the right side of the Emperor. We pledge our support to you and the Emperor. We will slaughter these soldiers and then free our remaining brothers."

"A wise decision. We welcome your allegiance."

The Commandoes were becoming agitated, however. A couple of them were edging towards the doors. Lusiel heard Jaesa smother a small laugh, watching them. The soldiers' leader began stammering. "Uh, excuse me. Pardon me for interrupting. But … uhm. You're not really going to slaughter us, are you?"

Lusiel shook her head. "No, _I_ won't. Prove yourself," she pointed at the Sith.

The Sith assassins stepped forward, smiling slightly. Their leader held up his hand, gathering the force in his grasp. The soldier who'd spoken began choking, kicking his feet futilely and clawing at his throat. He gasped, trying to beg, but he couldn't get a word out around the force-made obstruction cutting off his airway. Jaesa actually chuckled when one of the Commandoes raised his hands in the air, trying fruitlessly to surrender. Lusiel heard the crack of his neck when one of the Sith twisted the force around his throat with a hard jerk.

Within moments, the soldiers were all dead, lying in a sad heap along the floor at Lusiel's feet. She regarded them steadily. The act worked to dissolve any loyalty the Sith might have owed Darth Ekkage. The motion was unequivocal, definite and certain. Lusiel was satisfied.

The three Sith assassins threw back their shoulders, gazing at each other with satisfaction almost as great as Lusiel's. "We're finally free of Darth Ekkage's rule!"

Figures, Lusiel thought. Baras' sister earned just as much loyal support from her followers as her brother did from his. What did that Jedi call it? Oh, yes. Two peas in a pod.


	85. Chapter 83

Lusiel let loose a frustrated huff when she saw Lord Melicost. Perhaps there was something about Belsavis in particular, that she just kept coming up at the very tail end of her targets' being released. This time she'd even run down the corridor to reach the room in time. Yet there stood her current nemesis, just pushing the buttons that would work to release Darth Ekkage from her prison, leaving her to drop down from the stasis she'd been trapped in and slowly rise to her feet.

First the assassins, she thought. Now this. What had gone so horribly wrong with her luck lately?

Lusiel gripped Jaesa's upper arm, maneuvering the both of them back and around a rather large pillar standing nearby the open doorway to the chamber. The room itself was immense, with towering statues depicting what was probably the alien race that had created the prison on Belsavis, as the figures showed creatures with eyes jutting out on stalks located on either side of their head. Behind what was once Ekkage's prison stasis was a pool of lava that worked to light up the entire space, as well. The roof towered over the room, its stone rough hewn and matching the rocks that made up the hills and mountains outside the place.

Lusiel felt like she had been sunken into a pit deep in the bowels of the planet. Now bowels was an interesting word, she thought. Maybe that's how she needed to regard Darth Ekkage. A form of bad digestion. Once relieved of the obstruction that Darth Ekkage had become, she could get on with the business of killing the woman's brother. That would be a far more pleasant effort, she thought. She was eager to bust in his gut, anyway, to make him bleed internally as Quinn had bled.

She hated Baras. She didn't think she could hate him more.

But Melicost was talking to Ekkage now, and Lusiel could make out their conversation. She tilted her head closer to the edge of the pillar, listening as the two spoke, as Melicost described Baras' intentions. How gratifying, Lusiel thought, to hear the man confirm everything the Hand had told her. She nearly laughed.

"Rage, wrath, vengeance! I need outlets after being dormant so long!" Darth Ekkage was quivering with emotions, almost desperate searching for someone, something she could destroy. She was mad. Weakness. Lusiel was disgusted. "Had my brother sent anyone else, Melicost, I would destroy them for practice!"

"Darth Baras has need of me, however. He's ascended to the Council, and with your help, and mine, will soon be named the Voice of the Emperor."

"Oh really? So he was too busy to free me from the filth and degradation of this prison, then? Is that what you tell me now? No, he's getting weak. Why … I can't even feel my assassins. They should be here! If Baras had everything under control, they would be! Yet someone has turned them against me! Who? And how?"

Melicost stumbled back from the increasingly maddened woman. "But I've taken every precaution! I sent my best commandoes to free your followers, I assure you. There is no explanation for what you sense."

Ekkage paused. Lusiel strained to listen. "You've grown incompetent in your old age, Melicost. I believe I will vent my frustrations after all."

Lusiel glanced at Jaesa, saw her apprentice rolling her eyes as the song of a lightsaber coming to blazing life filled the air. How simple. Stand back and let them kill each other off. Perhaps she could leave without too much effort, after all. She leaned back against the pillar, counting the seconds as the heavy patter of Melicost's boots moving towards Darth Ekkage were suddenly halted by what sounded like a lightning attack. The snap and crackle of the electricity was followed by the smell of burning flesh. Melicost yowled. The heavy thud of his body slamming into the ground sounded loudly.

Not bad, Lusiel thought. Especially for someone who'd been in stasis for years.

She carefully calculated, because timing against someone who used such an attack was essential. Lusiel considered the duels she'd engaged in on Korriban, where acolytes made use of lightning attacks repeatedly. Important, Lusiel knew, to avoid as much as possible a direct confrontation with a lightning thrower. The trick was to dart in and around such an opponent, rather - circumventing the electricity and striking the attacker as quickly as possible. They were rarely able to stand up to a truly strong opponent. But you first had to get around their electricity.

"I will tell your master, my brother, that you died like a dog." Darth Ekkage vowed, her tone utterly satisfied. Like she'd just finished a meal of some kind. Lusiel wondered suddenly what Draahg had told Baras about her own supposed death. She somehow doubted he'd passed along her angry promise of retribution.

Now that she considered it, she hated _both_ of them.

Not Ekkage, though. Ekkage just disgusted her.

She even told her so.

"You are truly Baras' kin. To betray someone so loyal to you." Lusiel respected loyalty, depended on it. She'd go far to support those loyal to her. She couldn't imagine destroying a loyal follower. She felt Jaesa stepping close behind her even now, in fact. Loyalty should be rewarded.

"It is a family tradition."

"Yes, I'm well aware."

Darth Ekkage frowned at her. "Exactly who are you?"

Lusiel felt him before she heard him, his force strength familiar after their meeting in the records room. She rolled her eyes, though. Typical Jedi. Always showing up late to the game, then insisting they were the ones who somehow solved the problem.

And like clockwork, Timms asserted, "She's with me, Ekkage."

Oh, of course. Because somehow _she_ was following _him_, rather than the reverse. As if she even would. She sniffed at him but he only grinned back at her.

"Nomen Karr's sad little whelp. This just gets better and better. Although it would be better to destroy your master. Where is he?" Darth Ekkage chuckled at Timms.

Lusiel yawned dramatically. "You're a bit slow, Ekkage. It's too bad you let the Republic keep you here while those of us stronger than you partook in such delights." Ekkage glared at the younger Sith - resented her suddenly, her strength and her ability, her attractiveness and her assuredness.

"If you align yourself with this Jedi, you're a fool and a traitor."

"Sticks and stones, Ekkage. Call me what you will, it changes nothing."

"A Sith who finds himself working towards the same goal as a Jedi should know something is wrong."

"Rather, a Sith who fails to take advantage of every asset is an idiot."

"Shut up!" Darth Ekkage was becoming more agitated.

"Are you going to stomp your foot? Please. Amuse me." Lusiel chuckled, waving her hand invitingly. Jaesa, behind her, laughed outloud. She sensed Timms moving off to the side, obviously positioning himself for the impending confrontation.

Darth Ekkage snarled. "You're a fool. Baras will be declared the Voice of the Emperor and, together, we will dominate the Empire. You? You'll be gone!"

"Of course, that's what Baras said. Yet - here I am. It seems betrayal isn't the only family tradition you can boast of, Ekkage. So, too, is overconfidence." Lusiel waved her hand, dismissively.

"Oh, but I just destroyed a lord with a mere flick of my wrist. Don't blink, I'm about to do it again!"

Ekkage lashed out with lightning, of course. But Lusiel was moving already. She sank herself into the song, the dance. She used flittering steps to scoot forward and around Ekkage, who had sunk down into a crouch to shoot lightning in a terrible arch of purple-blue threat at a spot Lusiel had left behind. Then Timms flew at her from the side, forcing Ekkage to spin and meet him, yanking her lightsaber free at the last possible second. Their blades screamed at meeting, and Ekkage yelled at him herself, "I'll kill you, Jedi!"

Lusiel yelled, too. "Bah, if anyone kills the Jedi, it will be me, Ekkage!" She leapt towards the battling force users, swinging her lightsaber. Jaesa joined her, both of them using crimson blades, which sang wickedly in threat. Faced with three attackers, Ekkage screamed in frustration. She flung out with lightning again, caught Jaesa against the shoulder before she could move out of the way.

Lusiel watched her apprentice slung to the ground, crying out against the pain of the burn. Her lightsaber clanked against the stone floor as it fell from her suddenly useless fingers. Ekkage shouted excitedly, raised her lightsaber to destroy the girl. But Lusiel's blade interjected itself, impeding the Darth from further threatening Jaesa. Lusiel flung the force against Ekkage, pushing her in a terrible thrust back and away from the fight. She followed the woman, leaping with a yell, swinging her lightsaber up and over her head before bringing it down against Ekkage just as her boots hit the ground, heard Ekkage offer a shrill scream of pain against the powerful strike.

Ekkage whimpered, falling to her knees. "Have my powers waned as I languished here?" She appeared honestly confused, as she looked blearily up at Lusiel.

Lusiel shook her head. "Mull that over … in death!" Timms cried out, anguished, as Lusiel stepped forward and force-gripped Ekkage's throat. She twisted smoothly, listened happily to the crack of her neck. Ekkage's body dropped sloppily to the ground, but Lusiel ignored her utterly. She turned to check on Jaesa, rather.

Timms, however, remained standing over Ekkage's body, clucking his tongue gloomily. He insisted, "You didn't have to do that, Sith! We could've locked her up once again."

"So that some other follower of Darth Baras could come here seeking her, of course. Admit it. This is the best option." Lusiel huffed.

"I'm not sure you considered any other option, however. I suppose your logic is sound, I mean. But it's still wrong." He looked back down at Ekkage's remains, obviously sorrowful. Lusiel rolled her eyes at the Jedi.

"You Jedi never fail to make things harder than they need to be. It's what makes the Empire stronger, that we abide by order and control. It's why we'll always succeed, despite your best efforts." Lusiel lectured.

"You'll have to challenge yourself if you hope to defy your former master, Sith. You must walk a different path, not rely upon your customary ways. He knows you well enough, after all." Timms argued with her. Lusiel actually angled her chin in obvious thought. She'd acknowledged the Jedi was an asset earlier, so it wasn't in her nature to disregard what he had to say completely out of hand, now.

Timms sighed. "So what now, Sith? Do we part here as friends or enemies?"

Lusiel pointed at him, frowning. "We'll never be friends, Jedi. If I ever see you again, I'll kill you!"

"Well, that's clear enough. Good luck to you, Sith."

Lusiel watched him walk sedately from the chamber. Jaesa stepped up beside her, frowning. She was holding her arm close to her body, obviously pained. But she looked after the departing Jedi, too. "I don't understand why we didn't kill him, master."

Lusiel chuckled. "He amused me. Besides, he was useful. All in all, he earned my tolerance." She moved to apply a stim to Jaesa's injured shoulder. "Let's go, before Ekkage's body begins cooking in this heat. Wouldn't that be a smelly ending to a perfectly atrocious day?"

* * *

Master Timms hugged the wall outside the cell that had so recently imprisoned Darth Ekkage. He watched the two Sith moving out of the place, heading towards what he knew to be a small nearby outpost manned by Imperials.

Lusiel was moving carefully, striving to prevent her apprentice further pain and damage thanks to her injury. Timms frowned at that particular oddness, of a Sith behaving with concern over the welfare of anyone else. Truly, Lusiel was hardly typical of her order.

He raised up his commlink, regarded the image that appeared there solemnly. "Master Satele. I have much to report. I will return to Tython immediately."


	86. Chapter 84

Lord Draahg remembered his mother well. She'd been a haughty piece of fluff, who'd impressed upon her son the importance of silently, methodically maneuvering to achieve one's ends. What other course could have won her marriage to a wealthy nobleman on Alderaan, other than to carefully ruin the sweet feelings and regard he had for her older sister, whispering in his ear of her supposed cruelties and sullen nature. Until then, he'd barely noticed her, after all. He paid the price for his gullability, of course. _After_ they were married.

She had found it all highly amusing. The titillating story of how she prevailed over her lovely, timid, and polite mouse of a sister - who, mind you, spent endless years afterwards crying for her so-called "lost love" – taught Draahg the absolute value of appearing otherwise than one seemed, to blend in and disappear, long enough to maliciously and meticulously ruin one's opponents. The lesson carried him well through his years on Korriban, when his fellows one by one fell to the cruel machinations of their overseer, until at last they were all gone and he himself was alone successful succeed. First, weed out the competition, Draahg believed.

It had always worked to propel Draahg forward, and he held true to the understanding. That is, until the day he laid eyes on the Imperial husband of the Sith he'd thought destroyed. Hell, he'd thought the man – Quinn, right? That was his name - he'd thought Quinn was dead, too. Buried under loads of flaming rocks and debris back on Quesh, along with his bold and compelling Sith wife.

Not that he'd agreed with Baras they should kill them from such a distance, either. No, he'd been prepared to confront them openly, kill them directly. She didn't understand his real strength, Draahg had insisted to Darth Baras. She would never expect such a battle, never be prepared for it. But Baras had demanded he remain out of sight, strike at the warrior from a distance, and successfully obscure his real strength and power for a longer time.

Yet Draahg was standing there, the air freezing frostily around his huffed breaths, as he watched Quinn negotiating with a food seller for replenishment of stores for a Sith Lord's ship, right there on Hoth. The implausible truth was becoming glaringly obvious. Because the man couldn't have survived the attack unless Lord Lusiel herself had clawed her way out of that hole first. Only she could've been that strong and still managed to drag him along with her, too.

Draahg's ability to go unnoticed served him well, however. Quinn never saw him as he concluded his lord's business and made his way back to the docking bay where Lusiel's ship was located. Perfect, thought Draahg, as he adjusted his commlink signal. "My lord? I'm afraid your plan to destroy Lord Lusiel failed. She's alive. And she's on Hoth. What would you have me do?"

* * *

"Ahh, Quinn, you're waking up. How delightful."

Quinn blinked up at the fuzzy image of Darth Baras on the holoterminal. Was there something wrong with the holo, he wondered, confused. No, he realized. It was his vision that was smarting, rather. He was, in fact, kneeling amidst some splattered blood left on the floor when Draahg had butted him across the nose with the hilt of his lightsaber. He sneezed more blood onto the floor as he listened to Broonmark's yelps coming from the cargo hold. He yanked against the bonds holding his arms behind his back but the ties remained secure.

"It seems my old apprentice's crew is putting up quite a fight. Draahg may be delayed for several moments, giving us a chance to talk. You should be pleased, Quinn. I would much rather you remain alive, anyway. Your usefulness remains certain."

Quinn tried wiping his face against his sleeve but only succeeded in smeering even more blood all over himself. He finally stopped and looked back up at the holo, his expression coldly impassive. "What is it you seek from me, my lord?"

"See? You've always been so much smarter than any other servant of mine, Quinn. I've long valued you." Darth Baras leaned forward, his metallic gaze undeniable. "You know what I need you to do, even without me saying the words. But I'll say them, nonetheless. Only because I want no misunderstandings between us, _captain_."

Quinn shook his head, sniffed back another breath saturated with blood. He coughed. "Lord Draahg must have hit me too hard, my lord. I don't understand."

Baras laughed. "Draahg doesn't realize your value. That, and he's still miffed my apprentice married you before he could. Envy like that is a hallmark of the young."

Quinn lowered his chin, obscuring the thrill of anger that went through him at the thought of Lusiel anywhere near, or worse _under_, the filthy slime of a Sith bastard like Draahg. Baras laughed again. "I see you are not above such possessive qualities, yourself, Quinn. You surprise me."

The Darth concluded his needling at last. Quinn was grateful for that much, that Baras was at least getting to the point, rather than meandering through varied and false pretensions of pleasing regard.

"You're going to kill Lord Lusiel for me, Quinn."

Quinn couldn't help but stare up at Baras in astonishment. Only for a moment, though. He couldn't help himself, then. He actually laughed. "You've gone mad, my lord."

"I know the truth, Quinn. Not like Draahg, who assumes it was Lord Lusiel that dragged you both free of that explosion. I know it was you, though! She trusts you, will let you close enough, will follow you into Hell itself. You can succeed where Draahg will fail. I know it."

Quinn glared at him. "She's my wife."

"Please, Quinn. Don't pretend that sentiment has kept any Imperial from killing a stubborn or recalcitrant spouse many times over. I can make you a Moff, man! Think what we can achieve together, how much we can do for the Empire! With me on the Dark Council, the Voice of the Emperor, and you leading our fleets, we can finally defeat the Republic once and for all!" Darth Baras intoned, determined. Quinn wondered if Baras had finally fooled himself as much as he worked to fool everyone else around him. Therein lay the hazards of building one's life amidst endless deceit. After a time, it was hard to discern where the lies started and ended.

"I will not." Quinn stared straight ahead, expressionless, ignoring Baras' sputtering.

"You are not such a fool, Quinn. I refuse to believe it!"

Quinn turned to regard the Darth once again, his gaze hard and firm. "You tried to kill her. You made her bleed. I despise you! I will work with all I am to help her destroy you. Do you hear me?"

Baras laughed again. "And what do you think she will do if I told her how much you'd helped me these past months? All the insights you provided me? If she knew you'd always been mine, _my_ man, my spy on that ship, Quinn! You've seen her go after my moles, ruin and destroy them time and again. She'll kill you!"

Quinn shrugged. "I don't care. Better I die by her hand than raise mine against her."

Baras was stunned. This simply wasn't a development he'd anticipated. No one had ever truly resisted his manipulations. Certainly not a mere force-blind Imperial! That's when Baras became truly angry at Quinn. His rage built, a fascinating thing to watch, as his big body fairly trembled with the undeniable emotion.

"Is that so? You really think there's nothing worse than you killing her? Let me show you, Quinn. Look, and know this is happening because of your foolishness." Baras gestured angrily towards someone away from the holoterminal. Quinn watched, confused at first, as one of Baras' slaves was dragged into view. The girl, a small and overly young human with dark hair, was crying even before she knelt, pleading, at Baras' feet. But the Darth only shook his head, raising his hand to gather his force strength against her.

Quinn felt bile rise up in his throat as he watched. He watched Baras compel the girl in place, hold her firmly there, so she couldn't move. She couldn't even wriggle or twitch, not a muscle. She was frozen and silent, as tears trekked down her pale cheeks. Baras barked some commands, and several of his guards stepped forward then. They began tearing at the girl's body, ripping her clothes from her, twisting and pulling at her. She couldn't even scream as they violated her, right there, right there in front of the terminal as Quinn watched.

He dropped his head, agonized. All he could hear was Lusiel's voice, the memory of her choked, imploring voice, as water rained down all around them in that long ago refresher stall. "_Quinn, swear. Swear to me you'll never let them hold me like that. Swear to me you'll stop them from holding me so that I can't move or fight them. Quinn … it _frightens_ me._" Kneeling there now, with blood smeared across his face, Quinn gasped a hard, choked breath. He'd promised her!

"I see she did tell you, after all. I'm so glad we understand each other, Quinn." Baras' voice was ruthlessly cruel, brutal. "Because if you don't give her the quick, simple death I know you're capable of providing – well, then I'll be the one who does this to her. Over and over again, Quinn. Do you understand? I could drag it out for years! By the time I was done, there wouldn't be anything of _her_ even left. I might, possibly, end her miserable existence then. Or I could just toss what little remained of her at your feet."

"She can defeat you."

"You know – _know_ – there's no way she'll ever defeat me, Quinn! You know me, know what I'm capable of! How many years have you worked with me? Long enough to appreciate my power and strength. There is no way." Quinn's head was lowered. He didn't see Baras waving a palm in a smooth, easy gesture in front of the terminal. All he knew was the certainty that settled into him, the absolute dogged belief that Baras was right, correct.

"There's no other way." He whispered, agonized. He felt his head begin to ache, shook himself, felt fresh blood sliding from his broken nose. Why was his head hurting so bad, when it was his nose that was broken?

"I'm so glad we're working together again, captain." Baras was pleased once more. He watched as Draahg returned to the lounge and move towards Quinn. "Ah, Lord Draahg. I hope you've managed to subdue the entire crew. They live, correct? Good. Here's what you're going to do, now."

Who knows, Baras thought. Perhaps Draahg would actually pull it off and kill his erstwhile apprentice. He doubted it, however, as he considered all the times previous where Lusiel had surprised him with her strength, power and tenacity. No, Lusiel was greater than Draahg. Once she'd killed him, he'd be able to use the real, true weapon – the poison – that he'd long since placed there in her midst.


	87. Chapter 85

Pierce accompanied her to meet General Greist. He'd said he knew the man, anyway, that they'd worked together. He'd spoken well of Greist, in fact, called him stubborn and determined, his tone heavy with admiration. Maybe, just maybe, Pierce's presence would help convince Greist to act, to move his battalion to Corellia. Surely that would be better than killing the general.

Lusiel eyed Pierce as they walked through the doors into Armeggedon Batallion's headquarters. No, she thought. Pierce was unlikely to object if she had to kill Greist, not when he was so focused determinedly on her own support. She'd once again won a soldier's will to herself.

Lusiel remembered the soldiers on Korriban, the steady disappointment that throbbed in their tone when she would tell them their fellows had fallen. Whatever recompense she offered, whether it was a bit of tech, a prize of some sort, or just the understanding their mission was finally finished successfully – she could always tell it wasn't enough. While her fellow acolytes mocked her ready support of the soldiers, Lusiel had just continued fighting for them. And it had paid off quite handily, too. The soldiers were more likely to signal an impending threat, to her, or they would show up, conveniently, just before an acolyte would strike at her.

She appreciated soldiers – a byproduct of her earliest years waiting in front of a door for a soldier to come home - and their loyalty was her reward.

Greist didn't get off on the best footing with her, though. Not when he started with Baras' name. "My orders come from Darth Baras himself. On who's authority are you operating?"

She decided to warn the general. "Do not think to use Baras to coerce me, general. His days on the Council are greatly limited. When he goes down, those who followed him will be judged accordingly." That was when Pierce decided to interject, proving his value.

"General, I served under you at the Cleansing of Nopsin."

Griest nodded, smoothing his fingers against his dark, bearded chin. "Oh, I remember you, Pierce. Also remember promoting Phenter here instead of you."

Pierce nodded. "Made the right decision. I would never have been satisfied riding your coattails. I only wanted to give you some friendly advice, here." He gestured towards Lusiel. "People who don't listen to my lord end up pretty damn dead."

Greist became angry. "I don't respond well to threats."

But Lusiel snarled at him, shaking her small fist in his startled face. "I will kill you, general. And down the chain of command until I find someone in Armeggedon Batallion who does as I say."

Greist looked at the Sith with wide eyes, frozen in place for several long moments. He glanced at Pierce, then back to her. She meant it, he thought. He could see that she would do precisely as she said. Not that he imagined it would take her very long to find someone who'd go along with her intentions, either. The young captain next to him would gladly do as the Sith ordered, for one. No, his battalion would be going to Corellia. The only uncertainty was who'd be leading it. And Greist seriously didn't want to lose his command, let alone his life. Not for the sorry opportunity to hunt Wampas and Tauntauns on Hoth, at least.

"Captain …" Greist sighed, gesturing towards his young subordinate. Phenter stood to attention, ready. "Ready the men. We're moving out for Corellia." The young soldier saluted him sharply, obviously pleased. And why not? Phenter had been arguing for days their presence on Hoth was useless, that they needed to be fighting on Corellia, rather. But Greist wasn't so cheerful. It was just as likely he'd lose his head once Baras learned they'd left Hoth.

He eyed Lusiel with a baleful gaze. "Are you happy now, Sith?"

She was unconcerned. "Time will tell, Greist. You'll see you did the right thing."

* * *

"My lord, there's no response from the captain." Pierce was shaking his commlink, glaring at it as if the equipment itself had failed him somehow and needed to be punished. Lusiel almost grinned, except her senses were pricking at her. She gathered herself, focused, reached out to see what might be so wrong.

There was only blankness. She couldn't sense anything there, nothing of her space, her things on board her ship. Her people – nothing of Vette or Jaesa, not even Broonmark. Her husband … nothing. It was as if a wall impeded her from seeing anything she valued most. And walls were put up by enemies. Lusiel felt herself settle into a comfortable, simmering rage. She allowed it to grow. She was threatened, her people were at risk. Her family, her marriage, her Quinn. They depended on her. The rage built. She would not fail.

"They have my people, lieutenant." She spoke firmly, certainly.

Pierce looked at her, nodded. He pulled on his black helmet, its red markings glaring of his service to a Sith and he palmed his rifle, checking it for necessary charges. Then he spoke to her. "Bring it on. We'll fucking kill them. My lord."

* * *

"Are you kidding me? Only one of them? Hardly fair, my lord." Pierce grunted as he peered down towards the end of the docking bay, to regard the figure, there, looming over the unconscious forms of her crew.

Lusiel shrugged. "He's Sith. Do not underestimate Lord Draahg."

She watched Draahg turn his head to face her as she stepped forward. He smiled at her. "I knew you were strong. But you still managed to surprise me, Lusiel. I mean … look at you! Such beauty and grace - every sweet curve still sweet, all your delicious parts intact. For someone I blew up, you're looking so well!"

Draahg looked around at her people, lying so still. The bay itself was burning, the crackling flames sounding loud in the background. Lusiel could see the ship's airlock broken and torn, obvious lightsaber burns marking its surface. "Your slaves put up such a fierce fight. What do you even feed the Talz? He almost tore my arm off," Draahg chuckled.

Lusiel glanced, saw Broonmark lying in a bloody heap. Quinn lay just beyond him, as if Broonmark had fought at the last just to keep Quinn from being harmed. Her husband's face was turned away from her, though. Probably a good thing, she thought. Had she seen any sign of injury done him, she wasn't certain she could have restrained herself from flying into the worst, most uncontrollable rage. And she needed to be focused, centered, now.

They lived, she knew. She could feel the life force of every one of her people, although each was battered and beaten. She understood their skill and tenacity, as well. That Draahg had managed to fell them indicated he was far stronger than she'd supposed when retrieving him from Vengean's chambers. Hiding that strength from her during that adventure was surely deliberate on his part. Damn Draahg. As much a lying worm as Baras himself. She'd delight in killing him, only hoped she'd manage to hurt him first.

"Darth Baras is the true Voice of the Emperor, you know. Soon he'll claim his rightful title." Draahg asserted. Lusiel snorted at him, then.

"Come now, Draahg. Here I was, just thinking how impressively strong you are. And you go and admit you're a fool who believes what lies that maggot spymaster fed to you. How droll." Lusiel rolled her eyes. "I have been tasked by the Emperor's Hand. If Baras was the true Voice, he'd have their support. Except he doesn't. Why do you think that is?"

"Lies will not save you, friend."

"Oh, but I don't need saving, Draahg. And I am not your friend."

She lashed out at Draahg with a force push that sent him flying back and away from the bodies of her people, listened to him thud with a loud bang against the ship's airlock. She was leaping even as he hit the side of the ship, activing her lightsaber in mid-jump. She sensed Pierce moving quickly to pull the crew off to the side and away from the fight.

Draahg met her with an angry shout, the blazing red of his lightsaber screaming against her own. He pushed her back, leaving her to hit the metal grating of the bay's floor, expelling a loud oof as she landed on her back. She managed to roll out of the way of Draahg's boots as he jumped after her, yelling, "You're dead!"

Lusiel leaped to her feet, her lightsaber coming up and whipping out against Draahg once again. "You thought so before, too. It will be fun proving how wrong you are this time around." She sent her saber winging out, striking Draahg against the side, before yanking it back to her once more. He shouted, beating at her with his lightsaber, its song brash and aggressive as it met her own blade over and over again.

Then Lusiel hit back, flaying against Draahg, her lightsaber a blur of punishing strikes, as she steadily moved him back and forth across the bay. Pierce's rifle spit blaster bolts towards the Sith Lord, as well, although Draahg was able to deflect them easily. Draahg finally compelled the force to hold Pierce in a cruel choke. But Lusiel struck towards his exposed belly, her lightsaber flashing hard against Draahg's armor, successfully forcing Draahg to drop Pierce out of the choke to defend himself.

Draahg laughed. "Haven't you realized yet I can't be killed, fool?"

Lusiel raised her lightsaber threateningly. "Of course. You're as immortal as the Emperor, surely. I'm absolutely terrified. Can't you tell?"

"Sarcasm suits you. You should see the way your sneer pulls at your lips, in fact. It doesn't change the fact you can't kill me. I've been gutted, bled dry, jettisoned into space. It only made me stronger, every time. You're doomed."

"That only means I can gain added satisfaction from your lingering pain, Draahg."

"Hurt me! I welcome it!"

Lusiel watched him rush at Pierce, who raised his rifle against Draahg's bullish charge. Lusiel force pushed the Sith once again, listened to his frustrated yell as he went flying down the bay's floor. She ran towards him, her lightsaber already swinging, giving a forceful yell as she went. She watched the impact of her shout, saw him flinch back. But then he whipped out at her with his saber, the blunt music of his blade crashing against her armored breast. She grunted and stumbled back, then swung against him with her left fist, striking Draahg against the side of the head. She heard the crunch of his jaw, heard him grunt. Draahg leaned over and spit a number of bloody teeth from his mouth, before he looked at her furiously.

"Your persistence is glorious, Lusiel. But I'm losing patience with you."

"Well, then. I suppose my patience is superior, as well. Because you've bored me from the start."

Draahg roared his outrage as he jumped at her. Pierce's blaster bolt flew at him, though, zinging off the edge of his right leg, and Draahg stumbled, hard. He swung his lightsaber at the soldier. Pierce jumped back but still caught the tailend of the strike against his left shoulder. He spun in place and fell to a knee, looking over at Draahg as he prepared for a killing blow.

But Lusiel was standing there in front of him, rather. Her lightsaber was held up and gleaming, even as Draahg attacked. The two Sith danced together, their lightsabers crooning deadly melodies, the lashing motions smooth and hard as they moved across the space. Draahg was bigger, his size looming over Lusiel's smaller frame, and he tried using it to his advantage, pressing at Lusiel with what he assumed was greater strength. But Lusiel relied, rather, on her speed, agilely twisting around Draahg's attacks to assail him from the side and back. Bleeding slash marks began appearing all over Draahg's form, even as he grew more and more angry.

"You must be the luckiest being in the galaxy!" Draahg yelled.

Lusiel only smiled back at him, crooking a finger at him in wicked invitation. He roared, rushing at her like a rampaging Nerf, his face red with enraged fury. Lusiel jumped straight up, sailing over his head in a smooth gliding motion, watching as he ran by underneath her. She landed easily on her small feet, spun around to face Draahg, who looked over at her from where he stood against the railing. Lusiel raised her hand at him, pushing at him with the force one more time, watched as he stumbled backwards and over the rail into a blazing fire.

Pierce trotted over to the railing, stood there, watching. Lusiel panted, wiped at her face where sweat had gathered. She moved to stand next to Pierce, looking down at Draahg, who writhed in the midst of the flames, screaming wildly against the pain.

Pierce grunted. "He'll burn to a crisp down there. I could shoot him and put him out of his misery. My lord?" He raised his rifle, sighted at the burning figure below. Lusiel glanced over at Quinn, saw the blood smearing the entire lower half of his face, the bruises that marked him everywhere she could see. She looked back at Draahg, cocked her head to listen to his screams, breathed in the scent of his burning flesh.

"Shut up, Pierce. I'm enjoying this."

* * *

**I kept the fight pretty much the same as the in-game story. Because it's that friggin' awesome of a fight! Hope my telling was at least enjoyable.**


	88. Chapter 86

Quinn bent over the console, checking his figures once again. The simulations still showed significant problems, and he wouldn't tolerate continuing failure. After endless hours, he continued plugging and re-plugging his data into the computer, only to see the simulation fail once again.

He huffed a frustrated sigh, rubbed the back of his head wearily. He felt another headache pounding against his skull again. He should, perhaps, venture to the medical bay and run some tests to determine what was wrong. Perhaps the beating Lord Draahg had inflicted had caused some damage he'd missed in his determination to repair the battered frames of the other crew members. It wouldn't be the first time he'd put the needs of a subordinate before his own. A good leader always ensured those who followed him, or her, were in good shape, even before he himself was.

But first. Perhaps if he changed the level of potency during the last quarter of the engagement, the simulation would be affected correctly. He ran several different numbers through careful calculations. Only to receive similarly flawed results. Damn it, he cursed. He couldn't fail her.

"It's late, Quinn. What could possibly have you still in here, working?"

He spun around, startled. It was a testament to his growing frustration he hadn't even heard her approach, in fact. Lusiel was standing, framed, in the doorway to the bridge, the light from the hallway behind her illuminating the outline of her body. She was only wearing a thin robe, in fact, probably something she'd had to go searching for, because she usually slept nude, he knew. Quinn eyed her, heatedly, as the curved edges of her figure were brightened by the backdrop of the light until she nearly glowed.

Lusiel smiled. "You're obviously not interested in working anymore. So why are you still in here?"

He frowned, newly frustrated that he couldn't explain it to her. He hated this. He felt a renewed throbbing at the back of his head. "It's nothing, my lord. Merely running some calculations on our new security measures. I refuse to allow any further incursions onto the ship."

Lusiel stepped forward, allowing the door to close behind her. He heard the click of the latch. She was shaking her head, coming over to stand next to the galaxy map. He shut down the console in front of him so smoothly she never noticed. She watched the stars sliding by outside the viewport for several moments.

"For a moment, seeing you lying there …" Lusiel sighed.

"Don't, Lusiel." She spun around, prepared to argue with him. But he came to his feet, angrily, his hands clenched into fists. "No! Stop it! You know as well as I do that we must be prepared for such a possibility. You can not allow yourself to be compromised! Not for me, especially. I refuse it!"

Quinn spun around, standing with his back to her, staring at the back wall of the bridge with unseeing eyes. He breathed roughly, then sighed tiredly. He reached back to rub at base of his skull again.

"Quinn, what's wrong? Tell me."

He clenched his eyes closed, trying to calm himself. Failing. She could feel his distress, his determination to do … something. Why wouldn't he just tell her, she thought, confused. Lusiel closed her own eyes, concentrating.

She'd worked with Quinn for the past two days at upgrading the ship's security protocols, gone through numerous diagnostics. The actual feeds from inside the ship during Draahg's attack had been ruined, the systems mangled when the Sith had cut through the side of the ship to get past the airlock and then banged around tossing crew members into walls. So she didn't know what had happened. Whatever it was, it left Quinn feeling he'd failed dreadfully. He'd actually said so in the medical bay, even before the blood was fully cleaned off his face, told her he accepted rull responsibility for the debacle. Then he'd gone straight into constant and neverending efforts at improving the ship's security, even losing sleep over the issue.

"I can't. This is my failure." Quinn stood so still, that his voice at first startled her.

"Malavai ...?"

He spun around quickly, gripped her upper arms. He shook her, staring into her eyes, admant. "Let it go, Lusiel. I'll deal with it."

She responded as a Sith. With anger. She shrugged off his hands, slapping them away. She never dropped her eyes from his, though. Her nostrils flared. "You overstep yourself. No one, not even you, denies me control."

Quinn's eyes flared, turned blue-black in the face of her upset. He slid his gaze down, taking in her chest, watched it swell in her agitation. Her nipples puckered, beading the front of her robe. The outer curves of her breasts were highlighted by the glow of the galaxy map behind her, turning them into shining globes of enticement.

"Lusiel," he panted.

She watched him, felt herself dampen and tighten in growing arousal. "That's not fair," she whispered. "I was trying to be mad at you."

He grunted. "Don't." He reached up and pushed the edges of her robe off of her shoulders, watched it fall down along her arms to pool in a puddle at her feet. "Don't be mad at me, I can't stand it." He reached out to pluck at one of her nipples, watched her twitch in response. He raised his eyes to hers, lost himself in their dark depths.

He felt … better, then. She gave him peace, he felt it slide into him, felt the pain in his head stop. He belonged to her, every bit of him. He'd show her that. Right now.

He palmed her breasts as he stepped closer. But she stopped him, making a mewling sound as she yanked and pulled at his uniform jacket. He reached down to help, kicking off his boots and tearing at his clothes until he was as naked as she was. Then he stepped close, reaching out to wrap her into his arms, rubbed his chest on her so that her breasts rolled against him. She moaned, holding the back of his head as she licked along the shell of his ear.

Quinn dropped his hands, clasping her rear-end to keep her pressed against him even as he urged her legs apart with one of his knees so that he could reach her sex with his fingers. He circled her clit softly, exhulting in her voice against his ear, as she pulled the lobe, there, into her mouth and started sucking. He panted as he ran his fingers lower to find her passage, touched the opening before penetrating it. His thumb continued fiddling with her clit even as he proceeded to run his fingers in and out of her in a steady rhythmic motion.

Lusiel keened, arching against him, spreading her legs to meet his thrusting fingers. But he didn't let her move too far, just crooned to her as she twisted against him. "Yes, Lusiel. That's it. Just like that. Give it to me, now." She came in a shattering burst of sensation, lowering her head against his shoulder to bite him there, just to keep from screaming out loud enough to wake the entire crew. He gasped at the pleasureable pain of her bite, felt her sucking at his flesh, there, and never stopped rubbing softly at the vee of her thighs. "Yes," Quinn rasped.

Then he picked her up under the back of her thighs, moving to settle her back against the nearby wall. "Legs … wrap your legs around me, Lusiel." He directed her, grunted as he felt her raise her feet and place them against the backs of his thighs. He leaned his head forward, tongued the side of her neck, began licking and nibbling the skin there. He canted his hips until he could feel himself poised properly at her entrance, groaned, felt her tighten just as he pressed himself forward.

He lowered her weight, let her slide down onto him, felt himself deeper inside of her than he'd ever been before. She raised her head, let it fall back against the wall. He heard her whisper his name, "Malavai," felt her hands clutching at him, her fingers running through the hair at his nape.

He began rocking his hips, pushing himself back and forth in her. He held her, moved her on him. She was so tight, so wet. He felt the drag and pull of her inner muscles on his cock, heard the sound of slaps her thighs made against his groin as he continued thrusting wildly into her. She was gasping, twitching. Their bodies became damp, slid against each other. He watched enthralled as her breasts bounced in front of him, glistening with sweat and glowing in the light from the map.

He clutched at her ass, digging his fingers in so hard he was sure he'd leave bruises. But she only moaned, moaning heatedly as a second orgasm tore through her. He felt it, felt the warm, wet muscles clasping him, squeeze him. The sensation was so intense, that Quinn came in a violent rush, thrusting once, then twice, even as he poured himself into her. He leaned against her, breathing roughly, luxuriating in the feel of her hands running up and down his back.

"Malavai. Love you, Malavai." Quinn heard her as she whispered against his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut. I promise you, he thought. I promise I won't let him do that to you. Ever.


	89. Chapter 87

Lusiel emerged from the spaceport into the dry, aching heat of Mos Illa with a shudder. She glanced at the Twi'lek next to her, shaking her head, "You're lucky, Vette, that I like you. Really like you. Because I truly hate this planet."

Vette laughed. "Only like? Ah, my lord. You're breaking my heart. I thought you loved me!" She laughed even harder when Lusiel scowled at her. "Careful, my lord. Your dark countenance is scaring the locals."

Lusiel muttered as she watched some of the farmers and thugs loitering near the spaceport take off running after they observed her tempermental grimace. "At least I'm clearing the area of potential criminal behavior."

"Oh, yes, of course, my lord." Vette nodded, dramatically solemn. She chuckled again, however. "Let me verify the address where Tivva asked to us to meet her. I can't believe I'm going to see mother again! I'm so excited!"

Lusiel smiled slightly as they maneuvered through the crowded marketplace outside the spaceport, bypassing the varied vendors. Most of the people scrambled out of their way as they moved along, trying to avoid the attention of the Sith warrior. The patience she offered her tiny blue slave was a bit befuddling to those watching. Although the costly leathers that Vette was wearing, dyed red and black to match the robes worn by her master, demonstrated a worth applied to the slave that was noted by everyone who watched them pass by. The comments that followed in the wake of the Sith and her Twi'lek property were in general agreement.

Bother that particular Twi'lek, it was whispered, and you'd get a lightsaber up your ass.

"There it is, my lord! There's Tivva!" Vette waved towards her sister as they approached the doorway leading up towards the address Tivva had described in her message to Vette. Lusiel eyed the older Twi'lek, noticed before Vette did that her sister was not happy. The waves of distress coming from the blue-skinned woman were intense enough that Lusiel tried catching at Vette with a small hand, warningly.

But Vette was already bouncing forward, calling to Tivva excitedly. Tivva burst into tears just as Vette reached her, causing Vette to stop suddenly, stunned. "What is it, Tivva? What's wrong?" Vette's fearful query actually shook. Lusiel grimaced, as she shot a dark look towards the open door just behind the Twi'leks. The smell of death coming from the place was a bitterly sour thing.

Tivva cried. "We were only two days too late. It's not fair! Two lousy days!"

"Too late?" Vette looked towards the door, trembling. "No. Not mother."

Lusiel placed a hand on Vette's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Vette."

Vette squared her shoulders, nodding. She stepped towards the door, along with Tivva, both the women ducking through the opening into the cool interior. Lusiel followed, although she stopped just inside the entrance, watching as the two women stepped up to the table where an older Twi'lek woman, obviously dead, had been laid out. At the head of the table was a old Twi'lek man, his pale red skin chapped from who knows how many hours working in the dry heat of Tattoine's suns. He was telling Tivva and Vette how their mother had died, and Lusiel listened.

"A slave is all I am. All she was. We worked for the illustrious Whuddle the Hutt here in Mos Illa. He makes all his slaves do hard work, carry many things. Unless they're young, beautiful girls. Your mother was old. I tried to make her work easier but Whuddle's men whipped me."

Tivva was angry. "It's not right."

"Vette, I'm not sure of Twi'lek customs. How is your mother being cared for?" Lusiel pondered. As the old man explained he could only afford to bury Vette's mother behind his shop, with mere stones to keep wild animals from gnawing on the corpse, Vette began to cry. Lusiel was becoming upset, too.

"No, we have credits enough for a proper ceremony. Make the arrangements, old man. We must celebrate our mother's life." Tivva pulled a credit chip from her pocket, handing it to the man. They watched as he left, then Tivva turned to Vette. "We can't let that bastard Hutt get away with this, Vette."

"Tivva … please. I'm just so sad. I don't want to think about something like revenge right now."

"Come on, Vette! How can you think to stand at mother's funeral knowing the Hutt who killed her is still living? I can't. I won't! Are you going to help me, or not?" Tivva was almost stomping her foot.

But Vette was still doubtful. "What do you think, my lord?"

Lusiel shook her head. "Vette, I'm Sith. I'm determined to destroy my old master, because he betrayed me and nearly killed my husband and crew. What do you think I'm thinking, here?"

Vette nodded, her tearful gaze still glued to her dead mother's face. Then she turned and followed her sister.

* * *

Vette waved at the cantina vendor, silently asking for a refill. He frowned as he poured some more green liquid into her cup, watched as she tossed it quickly into her throat, twisting her lips against the bitter taste.

Mostly he was eyeing the men who came closer and closer to the Twi'lek standing alone against the bar. He wasn't stupid. He'd seen the girl following along with a Sith Lord earlier in the day. Hell, the markings on her leathers clearly identified where her loyalties belonged. And one didn't mess with the property of Sith Lords. Not and lived long to tell of it. A Sith rampaging through a cantina to reassert her claim to a slave, though – well, that wasn't something he wanted to see.

Vette seemed oblivious to all of it, though. She was purely intent on drinking herself into incoherency, in fact. Or at least enough that she could stop seeing her mother's body burning in the waning light of the Tatooine sunset.

"Hello, you pretty little thing."

Vette glared at the man who leaned against the bar next to her but he only laughed back at her. He was a handsome bit of male human, she thought. His hair was black, just a bit long in the back, hanging in shaggy tendrils against his nape. His jaw was angular and strong, shaded with the slightest stubble. His full lips were curled in what she took to be a habitual grin, as well. And his eyes … his eyes seemed strangely familiar. Dark pools of rich brown, like chocolate.

Vette shrugged. "I'm not in the mood. I was at a funeral earlier."

"Really? Sorry to hear it. Someone close to you?"

"My mother, actually."

He murmured at her, a small soothing sound. She tossed back another large sip of alcohol, wondering idly what sort of liquor she was drinking. She didn't notice her new companion shooting dark looks towards the goons meandering closer to where she was slumped. They blanched, raising their hands in surrender as they backed towards the door, rather. They'd long since learned not to mess with the fellow who's rifle spit so unerringly at them during heated confrontations.

"If we'd only come just a few days earlier, we might have saved her. It's just so unfair." Vette was saying.

"We? You have friends nearby? Someone to keep an eye on you? It's not exactly the safest place, Mos Illa." He smiled at her, his grin becoming infectious. She found herself smiling back, in fact. Who would ever believe she'd be in the mood to smile so soon after finding her mother had died? He really was adorable, though.

"I serve my lord, actually. No one messes with her. She's … hic … Sith." Vette nodded, as emphatically as her increasing drunkenness allowed.

"A Sith? A real one? Wow. What's she doing here on Tatooine?"

Vette glared at him again. "My mother, I said. We thought she was alive, though. Came here and found she'd died. It was a real bummer. Don't worry, though. The friggin' Hutt who worked her to death is as dead as she is, now. Bastard worm!"

"Oh. She killed the Hutt?"

"No. It was family business. Me and my sister killed Whuddle."

"Whuddle?"

"The Hutt!"

He shook his head, chuckling over at her. "You're very drunk. Would you like me to escort you back to your Sith's ship?"

She looked at him, ran her eyes down his frame, took in the way his leather armor stretched across his shoulders. "I'm tired, actually. You have a room?"

"Maybe," he drawled, his dark eyes smoldering back at her. He waved towards the bartender, handed him a chip with several credits on it. "Here, let me help you." Vette leaned against her new friend as they walked – well, she stumbled, honestly – towards the nearby stairs. She never saw him nod slightly towards the beautiful Rattataki woman occupying a table across from the bar.

* * *

Vette came awake when she heard the chirping of a commlink, followed by a brief conversation between a man in the room with her and a female at the other end of the link. She lay there listening for several moments. Apparently, the woman was concerned for the man's safety. "Didn't Kaliyo tell you? No, of course not." He sighed, then. "I'll be on my way very soon, Raina. Stop worrying."

Vette rolled over as the conversation ended. She pulled the sheets on the bed up to cover her naked torso, looking up at the ceiling. She felt the bed dip as he edged forward, crawling along her length until he was finally leaning over her, smiling. He pulled back the sheet to expose her again.

"Do you ever stop smiling?" She asked, her head canted thoughtfully as she regarded him.

He laughed. "Do you know how many people have asked me that?" He leaned down to kiss her, running his tongue into her mouth with a smooth and experienced motion.

"Who was that?" She asked, when he finally leaned back again, dropping his gaze to take in her naked breasts with heated eyes. He hummed approvingly as he watched her breasts rise and fall as she stretched.

"Huh? Oh. My wife."

Vette was startled. Her fingers flew to cover her breasts, causing him to cluck his tongue in upset. "Your wife? I didn't know you were married."

"Stop covering those. I like them."

"But you're married!"

"Yes. Now show me. Move your hands, come on."

Vette pursed her lips, scowling at him. "No. Stop it."

He sighed, came up onto his knees as he straddled her there on the bed. "You're being silly, Vette."

"Silly?"

"Yes. My wife knows very well I am quite a good friend to any number of people, when needed. I always return to her." He shrugged, still eyeing her breasts. He tweaked her nipple as it peaked between two of her fingers.

"I've never heard of such a thing. Is it common?"

"I wouldn't know. I don't worry much about anyone's marriage but mine. Well, except for one other. But that's only cause it's family. And family always comes first with me, Vette." He was suddenly the most serious she'd seen him. She sensed, suddenly, how truly dangerous he could be, if he felt it necessary. She glanced over at his armor and weapon, noted they were well within reach of the bed.

He hummed again, running his fingers back and forth along hers, where she continued mashing her breasts. She eyed him suspiciously. "You're an Imperial."

He smiled at her. "I'm your friend, actually. Isn't having friends nice?"

"Depends on what those friends want from you, doesn't it?"

He threw his dark head back, laughing. "Ah, Vette. I do like you." Then he looked back down at her. "Honestly, right now I only want to see your beautiful titties again. Maybe touch them. Come now. You liked it last night when I used my mouth to suck them."

"And after? What then?"

He cocked his head, grinning at her. "Well. After, we'll be friends. And I'll give you the means to contact me if you need to. Because friends help each other, right? If you ever needed help, like – oh, I don't know – like if some Sith wannabe lord forced his way onto your ship and beat you and your friends up, well, then you could let me know and I'd be able to come and help."

She gaped at him. "How did you …?" But she stopped when he shook his head at her. "Okay, then. But I won't spy on my lord. If you think that's what I'll ever do, you're a fool. I'd die before I betrayed her."

He chuckled. "Oh, you sweet thing. Vette, trust me. If I thought for a moment you'd betray her, we would not be friends anymore."

She heard the threat throbbing through his grinning words. What amazed her, though, was that it didn't really frighten her. She was suddenly excited, rather. She felt her sex tighten into damp readiness for his touch. He smiled at her as her hands fell away from her breasts.


	90. Chapter 88

Madaga-Ru could feel her coming, sensed her as she followed the proper path seeking him out. He concentrated on her, this off-worlder, this one who wasn't Voss but still used the same energies their mystics did. She was following the one who came before, the one who was Voss but housed something else, something dark and terrible.

He knew, because she was dark like that one was. Although … she was different, too. The other one was immense, far beyond her in age and power. Not that Madaga-Ru thought she wasn't powerful. No, she ached with it, was driven to attain it and hold it. Like the other. Unlike him, however, there were still people she clung to, cared for. Her feelings grounded her, as the other one was not and had not been for a long time.

He found her interesting, actually. He anticipated meeting her.

* * *

Fire leapt up, the signal burning brightly against the pale gold of the sky. Lusiel felt force energy surge along with it as she stepped back from the signal, dropping her fire starter back into her pouch. She frowned, felt the air itself become heavy with presence. She looked around, trying to find the being responsible for creating such power. She glanced to her side, saw that Quinn appeared just as confused as she felt.

"What do you sense, captain?" Lusiel asked.

"I've never felt anything like it, my lord. Something powerful approaching, perhaps," he pondered aloud.

Even as he spoke, Lusiel felt the figure materializing behind them, so that she spun to face him. It appeared to be a holo image, she thought. Although it gleamed golden in the waning light of the day, rather than the standard gray images she was so accustomed to seeing on Imperial holoterminals.

"Voss welcomes you, outsider. Why do you seek Madaga-Ru?" The image asked. Lusiel regarded the Voss thoughtfully. The Voss seemed to speak in stilted, almost artificial terms. It was hard sometimes to discern their emotions, in fact. She realized it was a matter of tone and she wondered suddenly how much true communication depended on the simplest nuances of tone.

"He has knowledge I need," Lusiel replied. She felt a burst of satisfaction come from the figure, knew that she'd impressed the man.

"A worthy goal. Madaga-Ru will meet you."

* * *

Lusiel gazed around the cave dwelling, at the table and chairs, the bed. It didn't appear to be a defensible place, unless you counted the secrecy of its location. The Voss was standing next to bed, his feet on one of the colorful rugs she'd discovered were common on the planet.

The Voss people seemed to enjoy bright colors, so that their clothes as well as their homes typically displayed the most intense tints and dyes of mostly blue and greens, some yellows, too. It came, she thought, from the fact their own skin was likewise brightly hued. The overall effect tended to be somewhat jarring to the senses. Lusiel far preferred more muted tones like black and grey. The only bright color she enjoyed was red, making it one of her signature shades.

The Voss gestured at her, encouraging her to come closer. "I am Madaga-Ru. I appeared at the signal pyre. I appear here." He peered at her. She sensed his curiosity. "I recognize you. Another came – of Voss but housing darkness, like you."

Lusiel smiled as she recognized the disgust in his tone. Although she wondered if she should be glad she'd dealt with the Voss enough to begin appreciating the true nuances of their language. Not that she was as disdainful of the Voss as Darth Serevin was. She imagined he'd gladly wipe the Voss off the world, entirely, if he thought he could get away with it. But their strength was too impressive.

Sad, perhaps, that Serevin's lame slinking around Voss strength would probably secure the Empire's place on the planet. Lusiel was too blunt and straightforward to really appreciate such skulking measures.

Apparently Madaga-Ru preferred honesty, as well. She considered him for several moments when he requested a secret from her, in exchange for his knowledge of the path the Voice had taken on Voss. Lusiel wondered what he hoped to really gain from her, in having her describe one of her secrets. What sort of test was this? Because she didn't believe the motion was meaningless, not even to him.

She felt Quinn press close behind her, felt his need to comfort and soothe her. He understood what it was, to a Sith, to give up a secret. Secrets exposed weaknesses, after all. Quinn would have far preferred Lusiel keep her secrets close, refuse the Voss such a boon.

Madaga-Ru, however, kept his glittering orange eyes focused on her. It wasn't compulsion but custom. As he said, a give and a take, an exchange of information and insight. She only sensed there was a purposeful direction to the Voss' request, something he hoped to gain from it that she couldn't necessarily see right then.

She nodded at Madaga-Ru. "During my training, I disobeyed my master and severed the hand of my first overseer, rather than kill him." Behind her, Quinn started, stepping back in some surprise at Lusiel's honesty.

But Madaga-Ru was satisfied. "An admission is made. The act is payment." The Voss turned away, and Lusiel sensed he was pained. She quickly realized the truth. Madaga-Ru had demanded payment, only to see if she would force him, as the Voice had forced him to give up the secrets of the Voss. "I could not deny him. He went to the Dark Heart Chamber in the Nightmare Lands. You must follow him."

"What is the Dark Heart Chamber?"

"It is ancient, forbidden. The secrets of Voss are buried there. The denied truth. Your predecessor wrapped himself in the Blessing of Oneness – without it, and outsider can not even see the gateway to the Dark Heart. Vana-Xo can bestow the Blessing upon you, though. Once you complete the trials."

"But he is trapped. Will I become trapped, as well."

"No. Not if you respect Voss Ways. If you do not, the Dark Heart will be denied."

"What does the Blessing of Oneness do?"

"Makes visible what is invisible. Vana-Xo is the only healer trained in it." Madaga-Ru pointed, his gaze hard suddenly. "Off. Get the Blessing at the Shrine of Healing. I will guide you when I can."

He watched as she turned to go. He closed his eyes, meditated briefly. She had to succeed. She was the only one who might defeat the darkness, there, and remove the contagious presence that had become ensnared. Without her, the Voss might be tainted beyond repair.

* * *

**Bear with me, guys. I really don't like the planet Voss, as a rule. I try my damndest to skip through it as quickly as possible but it never seems to work and I get bogged down there every time. I'll do my best to enliven the story as much as I can.**


	91. Chapter 89

"You're late, lieutenant." Captain Lorant glared at Pierce as he entered the room where the team had gathered. Pierce shot her a cool nod, though.

"Sorry, captain. My lord had some business elsewhere. We caught a ride on a transport with some soldiers from Armageddon Battalion. Took us a bit longer to get here than I thought." Pierce grunted an explanation.

"Business elsewhere? I thought you said we'd have Sith support, Lieutenant Pierce." Lorant frowned, staring.

"We do." Pierce shrugged, even as several whistles began sounding outside. Pierce rolled his eyes slightly, turning towards the door and glaring as Jaesa ambled through it. He watched her walk towards them, her hips rolling in a sensuous gait. He leaned down as she reached his side, muttered, "You've proved your point. Knock it off." Jaesa smiled back at him.

"Captain, this is the apprentice of Sith Lord Lusiel, Jaesa Willsaam. She'll be fighting at the front as we take the Bastion." Pierce introduced her. She nodded coolly towards the gathered soldiers, watched as Captain Lorant frowned at her.

"She seems a bit young, lieutenant." Torant remarked, carefully.

Pierce grunted. "Thought so myself at one time. But learned fast she can take my balls in a fight. Quite handily, actually. She's Sith, captain."

Jaesa chuckled. "Pierce doesn't like admitting the number of times I've beaten him. He carried the bruises for days." Pierce eyed her balefully, his lips pursed, but she only kept smirking.

"This pretty little lady beat you, Pierce?" Sergeant Arlos laughed over at him from where he was standing across the table displaying maps of the target and surrounding area. He was holding a datapad, of course. The man never went far without a piece of tech in his hands.

Pierce glared at him. "Don't think to try her out, Arlos. She's more likely to kill your skinny ass."

Arlos smiled broadly. "Sounds interesting."

"Enough, all of you." Lorant stepped up to the display, gesturing. "General Rakton has given us leave to take the Bastion. Now, we've all been waiting ages for this, so we need to do it right! Lieutenant Tanido has successfully produced a supply of his upgraded rifles with grenade launcher attachments. Make sure the mods are good to go, Tanido! Any questions?"

Arlos raised his hand. "Yea. Can we watch Pierce get beaten by the tiny little girl he brought along to the pissing match, captain?"

The room erupted into a mixture of boos and laughter, as the soldiers belted out comments either supporting the notion or negating it. Captain Lorant frowned at Arlos, started to say something, then watched, stunned, as he was suddenly picked up and launched across the room. He landed with a loud harrumph of sound near the far wall.

The room fell silent, even as Arlos climbed unsteadily back to his feet. Everyone turned to look at Pierce and Jaesa. Pierce only shrugged, "What? Not like I didn't warn 'im. 'Sides … he's not even bruised. Lucky bastard. Last time she did that to me, I busted my nose and bled all over the damn ship. Had to get blasted Quinn to fix it."

He glared at Jaesa, who only patted him on his armored shoulder. Jaesa turned to the troops gathered silently now around the table. "I'm not a tiny little girl," she warned.

"No shit," replied Lieutenant Tanido.


	92. Chapter 90

The Voss healers adamantly rejected Quinn's offer of medical aid and treatment. He looked around at their injured and ill, many writhing in pain on various pallets strewn across the floor of the shrine. One man screamed out just then, his painful wheezing pitiful in the open space of the temple. "Are you certain? I may be able to do something to help."

"You are an outsider. You do not understand Voss. You can not help." The healer closest to him shook her head. He wasn't sure if she was being polite or abrupt. It was so hard to tell when it came to the Voss.

Quinn watched Lusiel, saw her speak to one of the healers. The Voss pointed towards the back of the room, where a number of the most seriously hurt were gathered around a Voss woman draped in healer's robes. Even from where they were standing, Quinn could see the unwell grimacing and twisting from the pain they were suffering. Lusiel waved at him, already moving towards the healer.

"Are you Vonna-Xo? I require the Blessing of Oneness." Lusiel said. The healer didn't respond, though. She gestured over one of the injured, rather, and Quinn watched as a bright light glimmered over the man for several moments. He continued crying painfully, however, even after the light had dissipated. The healer whimpered, her body bowing in apparent sympathy or distress of some sort.

Voss healing was utterly ineffective, Quinn decided. He made a brief mental note, that Lusiel would not be treated in Voss clinics. If it became necessary, that is.

"I know what it is you're seeking, outsider. But you are not Voss. The Blessing bestows priveleges. I hesitate – you cause my insides to scream." The healer frowned at Lusiel.

But Lusiel only grinned back at her. "Perhaps your last meal isn't agreeing with you."

"Humor. You laugh easily. It eases my suspicions. Apologies. The Voss are leery when it comes to strangers." Vonna-Xo smiled, her red skin with its blue swirling markings still glistening with sweat as she rose from where she knelt to recover from her healing motions. "But to be granted the Blessing a sacrifice must be made."

Lusiel considered her. "For every thing gained a price must be paid."

"Yes. You begin to understand the Voss, I see." Vonna-Xo smiled again. "To heal, I siphon strength from the able. Will you submit your strength, that these may be healed?"

Lusiel looked around her at the writhing supplicants, listened to their pained whimpers and cries. She nodded. "Yes. I offer my strength willingly." Quinn hissed, alarmed. He stepped forward, prepared to disagree with Lusiel's intention. But she looked back at him, shaking her head. "It will be fine, Quinn. You'll see."

He subsided, his jaw clenched in distress. He looked around at the sick and ailing Voss, frowning. He watched the healer, Vonna-Xo step towards Lusiel, raising her red hands. She said, "Remain still…" Lusiel nodded, kneeling at the woman's feet. Quinn growled when he heard Lusiel gasp, saw her back arch as energy seemed to be sucked from her form. He leapt forward to catch her as she slumped back, unconscious.

Quinn cradled Lusiel against him as her head lolled back, listless. He barely noticed the Voss turning and expelling healing energy towards the ailing people on the ground around the shrine. A large number of the wounded began climbing back to their feet as the energy swept through the room. Even the most sick were renewed, their faces appearing peaceful as their pain finally diminished. But Quinn focused on his lord, moving her hair back from her face. He breathed out in relief when he saw she was only resting, her form utterly depleted.

"She had tremendous strength." Quinn looked up at Vonna-Xo, then. He noticed several Voss approaching, as if to handle the Sith, touch her. But he pulled her closer, refusing any of them near her. Vonna-Xo smiled at him. "The Blessing is granted. Your love of her is obvious. It speaks well of my choice."

"She would probably thank you." Quinn shook his head.

Vonna-Xo shrugged. "Thanks are not necessary. She sacrificed so that others might be bettered. It was a good bargain."

Quinn turned to leave, holding Lusiel to him.

"You will regret it, when you act against her. The pain of it will ravage you." Vonna-Xo warned him.

He stiffened, his shoulders going tense and hard. He looked down into Lusiel's face, smoothing his gaze across the curves of her jaw and eyes. He looked back at the Voss, breathed, "There's no other way."

Vonna-Xo shook her head. "There is always another way, outsider. It is not for you to see, however. You are lost. She must find you before it's too late."

Quinn shook his head. "You're not making any sense."

"I know. It is because I am not an interpreter. Go. Care for her."

He sighed as he turned once again to leave. He was really starting to hate Voss.


	93. Chapter 91

Lusiel knelt down amidst the darkness, felt it pulsing and swirling around her. She felt her knees pressing into the soft ground, looked down and frowned at the appearance of the reddish grass. Where am I, she wondered.

She froze as the sound of footfalls reached her. "Who's there?"

She rose to her feet, yanking at her lightsaber, firing it so that the red glare illuminated the immediate space around her. There was a responding chuckle from the darkness. "Oh, I think I can do you even better."

Lusiel watched as two lightsabers came to blazing life, their crimson glow revealing the figure of a human woman standing nearby. The woman swung her sabers in gentle arcing motions motion, humming lightly. She glanced at Lusiel, smiled. "Are we going to fight, then? Wouldn't be the first time."

"I don't know you." Lusiel replied, frowning.

"Really? Hmmm." The woman came closer, standing directly in front of Lusiel. She was young, perhaps twenty years of age. Lusiel took in her features, the high cheekbones and slanted eyes. Her hair was thick and black ebony. But her eyes were brilliant blue, all the more because of her dark hair framing her face in thick waves. She laughed at Lusiel's consternation. "You actually don't know me, do you? That's funny. Where are you? You're on Voss, aren't you?"

Lusiel glanced around, regarded the inky darkness shrewdly, the red grass. "Is that what this place is? Voss?"

"Oh, no, not here. This is _our_ place, actually. You, though. You're on Voss, right?"

Lusiel nodded in sudden understanding. "This is a dream."

"Duh. I'm disappointed it took you so long, actually." The woman tsked at her, shaking her dark head as if in gloomy sadness. But her blue eyes were twinkling.

Lusiel smiled. "Not surprising, I suppose. Voss mystics often have visions. The Force must be stronger, here, to encourage such things. But they dream of the future." Lusiel frowned, leaning forward as she examined the other woman. "Who are you?"

The woman laughed. "What would be the fun of just answering your questions? Aren't you supposed to figure it out for yourself?"

Lusiel felt a thrill move through her. She reached out to smooth her fingers along the woman's jaw, pushing her hair back over her ear, much as she did her husband's. "You look like him."

"He loves it when you say that, too."

"He would." Lusiel rolled her eyes.

The woman suddenly frowned. "Are you on Voss? It's almost time, then. You'll have to fight."

Lusiel nodded. "Yes. I'll destroy Baras."

The woman became frantic. "No, not that. You have to fight first."

"Fight who?"

"He might kill you, you know. Because you won't want to hit back. Baras picked the perfect weapon."

"What are you talking about?"

"You already know what to do. You read the journals, the texts. Why haven't you already saved him?"

"I don't understand."

"You could lose."

"I won't."

"But you haven't done what needs doing. You're scared!"

"I fear nothing!"

"You're too late! Baras has already acted!"

"What do you mean?" Lusiel spun in place, watching as the Marauder stomped her foot and paced around her, continuing to rant at her.

She heard Quinn's voice, suddenly, his distress call echoing in the space. "Lusiel! Wake up!"

Lusiel canted her head, watched the woman stop, frozen in place, listening. She turned to regard Lusiel with a serious expression. "You don't have much time left, mother."

* * *

Lusiel gasped back to awareness, staring up at the top of the shelter Quinn must have erected against the dark Voss night. She turned her head to regard her husband, as he sank back onto his heels next to her. He was obviously aching with relief. She smiled at him.

"You worried when I told you not to." She shook her head slightly.

Quinn shrugged. "I'm sorry. I don't actually trust Voss mystics. They speak in riddles. I wasn't certain their healings were much different."

"Riddled healings? I'll have to remember that one."

Quinn smiled. "I have food prepared. You should eat."

Lusiel nodded, rising to join him next to the heat source. Quinn handed her a piece of flat bread stuffed with green vegetables and strips of nerf beef. They settled down next to each other, eating quietly. She nudged him with her hip, chuckling when he nudged her back. He smiled as she giggled around her food.

"You were unconscious. It bothered me." Quinn frowned at her as he made the admission.

Lusiel shrugged, thinking. "I was dreaming. It was nice."

"What did you dream about?"

She nudged him again, laughing slightly when he shot her an irritated glance. "I was dreaming about your daughter, actually."

Quinn choked on the bite of sandwich he'd just started chewing, coughing vigorously. Lusiel laughed at him, playfully pounded his back as helpfully as she could. He shrugged her off of him, though, looking over at her. "Daughter?!"

"Well … not yet, at least. But eventually."

He swept his gaze down her frame, settled it on her abdomen, thoughtful. She smiled as she watched him envision that future reality, saw the pleased satisfaction that went through him. He looked back into her eyes, his blue eyes dark with warm promise.

"I'd be beyond honored. I'd give everything of myself for that to happen." Quinn spoke heatedly, firmly. It was almost a promise, a vow, she thought. She only smiled, reached out to smooth her fingers against his jaw.

"Your guidance will be a source of strength for our children."

He leaned into her touch. "You make me stronger. I'll ensure your legacy stands the test of time."

"My legacy is yours as well, Malavai."

She watched him close his eyes. He swallowed. Then he whispered to her. "I will love you forever, Lusiel."


	94. Chapter 92

Madrik pushed his small, lean frame behind the crates that contained pieces of scavenged metal and resources that several patrols had gathered during forays closer to Voss-Ka, shooting a quick glance towards the center of the camp. The Warmaster was speaking, there, to some of his greatest warriors. Madrik could hear the steady drone of his voice, even if he couldn't make out the words.

His friends had taunted him, said he wasn't brave enough to get close to the Warmaster and hear his words. Not after the monster had come through the camp earlier, they said. Several very powerful chieftans had been slain, their bodies torn to pieces. "The creature didn't have eyes! Just red flames that shot out and consumed them in agony," the boys had whispered to each other. The rumors were the monster would come back, that it was hunting their mightiest leaders at the behest of the scum Voss.

So they dared Madrik, to get close to the Warmaster in time to confront the monster face to face. Madrik was certain there was no monster great enough to destroy the Warmaster. So he easily accepted the dare and crept closer and closer to where the enormous Gormak had gathered to argue over the course of battle. He edged around the corner of the crate, trying to hear what the Warmaster was saying. But even with his horned head as far close as he dared to move, he still couldn't discern the actual words.

He began angling towards the backwards end of the crate, moving to circle towards the next set of crates closer to the arguing warriors. But then he heard a screeching call, distress and fear echoing. The Warmaster looked up, barking an order to the Gormak gathered around him. Madrik looked over towards the resonating calls, saw an arcing ribbon of crimson, and gasped. The monster's eyes, he thought, horrified.

He ducked down behind the crate, fear gripping him so strongly the fringe along both sides of his head shook and trembled. He listened with terror in his veins as strong warriors screamed their way into death. He quivered, his small frame shaking so hard the crate next to him shifted.

Suddenly, Madrik heard the vibrant war cry of the Warmaster himself, a shout that invited confrontation. He yelled out, "Come to me, Sith! I will destroy you now!" Madrik shook his head, cringing his head around the crate to look towards the area he'd watched the warriors gathered. He wondered what a Sith was, what form the beast took. It had to be immense, titanic even. He imagined one of the giants from the old tales the women described, the colossal ogres that gobbled down Gormak whole and spat out their bones.

The Warmaster suddenly shouted, cried out, "No! I'll kill you!" Madrik saw him roaring a challenge towards the flashing red glow. But then he heard a swoosh of sound, almost a hum. It was a sweet cadence, rhythmic and steady. The sweet scent of blood rose up against the darkening sky, and Madrik could see splashes of ruddy color against the yellowing grass all along the camp's ground at the Warmaster's feet. The Warmaster was fighting with his back towards the crates, so Madrik couldn't at first see the beast. All he could distinguish of the creature was the burgundy glow of its terrible eyes as it illuminated the space in front of the Warmaster.

Then Madrik saw the Warmaster stumble, hard, his knee giving way under the monster's onslaught. That's when Madrik first saw it, saw … her. He saw a tiny framed female, one of the smooth-skinned humans he'd watched from a distance moving along the roads leading from Voss-Ka. Her skin was pale, gleaming in the late afternoon light from the sweat dotting her face and neck. Her head was covered with thick tendrils of dark hair, all bundled against her nape. And her eyes weren't fiery red at all but dark, actually.

The red came from a huge club, a stick that she swing before her in smooth beating strokes, driving the Warmaster back and to his knees in front of her. The song he heard came from the stick she was using, its crooning tone singing out over the dusky air to where he crouched, watching. Madrik watched the human stop, breathing hard, as the Warmaster knelt in front of her. He said something harsh, because Madrik heard his tone if not the words.

The human smiled tightly, said something in return. Then she reached up and over her head with that terrible stick. She swung it out and around, bringing it towards the Warmaster's neck with precisioned movement. Madrik watched with horror as the Warmaster's head came loose from his body without even a squelch of sound, like a cutting of fat off the end of a haunch cooked over the fire. Smooth and easy.

He froze in place, terrified the human woman might see him. But she didn't look in his direction. She only reached down to remove an item from the Warmaster's corpse. A signet he'd hung around his neck, Madrik saw. She pocketed the item, just as he made out the patters of footfall approaching the crates where he was hiding.

"My lord, I've discovered a supply of neutronium ore. I could package it quickly for transport back to Voss-Ka and then off-world." It was a male voice calling to her, speaking in the dialect common to several humans Madrik had heard over the years. His father had told him they were called "Imperials", whatever that was.

Madrik saw the woman glance over at the crates. He realized, though, she was looking towards someone standing on the other side of the boxes. He saw her smile, thought she was very attractive when she smiled like that. She moved closer, enough he could hear her reply. "Always looking out for the bottom line, hmm? Very well, Quinn. If you think we can safely transport the stuff out of this camp, by all means."

Madrik heard rumbles of movement, not overly hurried, as the male human gathered up several of the scavenged materials the Gormak had accumulated into a bag he slung over his shoulder. The woman had moved much closer, even if she wasn't looking directly at the small space where Madrik was hiding, thank the gods.

"That Warmaster the Voss described took a good swing at you, my lord. Let me see." The male had joined the woman, suddenly. Madrik glanced at them, there together. The male was larger than the woman, although still slight in comparison to a Gormak. His frame was lean and muscled, in fact. His skin was pale like the woman's, his hair just as dark as hers. But when he glanced around, Madrik could see his eyes were the lightest of blues, like the skin of the hated Voss.

He watched as the man leaned over the woman's side, looking down towards her hip. He made a tsking noise. But she only laughed. "It's nothing, Quinn. A mere scratch. It will surely be healed by tomorrow morning."

He grunted. "It will if I have anything to do with it."

"Well, not if we stand here much longer. We had to climb over dozens of Gormak just to get here. We'll have to wade through dozens more to get back out. I swear, these creatures must reproduce by the bushel-full." She gestured. "Come on, Quinn. Let's take this trinket back to Biddek-Va, so we can get the Bone Pendant he promised us. It's vital we complete our task on this world, I feel it."

"Very good, my lord. Then we'll rest."

"Oh, I do like _resting_ … with you," she sighed.

"We can do that, too."

Madrik almost collapsed into the dust as the two monsters walked off. He didn't understand the playful tones and hidden nuance of language they'd used to communicate with each other. No, Madrik learned something far more crucial as he knelt there in dirt amidst the shattered remains of his camp's strongest warriors.

He learned to hate the Voss, passionately, fervently. Because they'd been cowards enough, to fight the Gormak behind the monstrous tails of such terrible foes as these humans, these Imperials. These … _Sith_.


	95. Chapter 93

"Not again," Quinn muttered from behind her.

Lusiel glanced back at him, saw him scowling at her. She sighed, shrugging as she turned to regard the figure of Madaga-Ru once again. "What do you mean, 'live in my skin, seize control of my body '?"

The Voss inclined his head, in apparent understanding, she thought. "You will feel no pain, I assure you."

Lusiel rolled her eyes. "It isn't pain I fear, actually."

Madaga-Ru nodded. "I know what you fear."

Lusiel's gaze sharpened into angry focus. "I fear nothing!"

He waved his hand, in a placating gesture. "The Sith fear to admit they can fear, much as any creature does. I understand. I can only assure you I will not harm you. And I will pay you for your service."

"What is it you seek to do with my body?" Lusiel heard a choked noise coming from Quinn, waved towards him for silence.

"You can not know. Agree to this. I only require your body for a few moments."

She contemplated the Voss silently, her arms crossed across her chest. She turned slightly, looking towards Quinn. He stepped forward, inclined his head. She listened to him whisper, "I do not like it, my lord. These … mystics use the Force in ways I've never seen. His intentions can't be trusted."

"We haven't yet seen mystics violate one of their bargains, Quinn. They seem pretty strident about the transactions, in fact. And Madaga-Ru has promised no harm would come of this."

He frowned. "I just don't like it."

Lusiel reached out to touch his forearm gently. "Watch. Tell me what happens." He nodded, firmly. His gaze remained sharply fixed on her as she returned to her conversation with the Voss.

"Very well, Madaga-Ru. I do like the idea of you owing me, at least."

"The agreement is made."

Quinn glared at the Voss as he stepped closer to Lusiel, his figure luminous with force power. He heard Lusiel murmur worriedly, as she turned to look at him. He nodded back at her, stepping closer, wanting her to know he was there. It was a protective gesture, noted by Madaga-Ru, who glanced at him, as well.

Then the Voss reached out with a hand glowing a radiant gold, slipping his fingers along Lusiel's neck and then down the swelling slope of her breasts towards her abdomen. He splayed his fingers there, placing his hand firmly against Lusiel's belly. Then he suddenly pressed against her, hard, before seemingly disappearing.

Quinn gasped, almost reaching out to grab at his wife as he watched her back arch and heard her gasp in surprised distress. He called her name as she whimpered. She was afraid, he thought, frantic. Her entire form glowed gold, like the Voss had, shined brightly for several moments. He touched her hand, watched as she turned to look at him with her dark eyes, knew that the being looking at him in that moment somehow wasn't … _her_. He shook his head, whispered, "Lusiel." He saw her – Madaga-Ru, actually - looking at him through her eyes, saw the Voss considering him with all of Lusiel's abilities and his own, combined, in that moment.

Then it was over. The Voss was suddenly standing in front of her once more, even as Lusiel slumped sideways against him. He caught her, smoothed his palms up and down her arms, trying to revive her quickly. "My lord?"

Lusiel gasped, panted. Then she nodded, glancing at him. "I'm all right, Quinn." She looked towards Madaga-Ru. "I suppose I'll have to continue on not understanding any of this."

The Voss held his hands out to both sides. "It will remain a mystery. Until it no longer is. The I will appear to you again."

Lusiel clasped the Bone Pendant that Madaga-Ru assured her would act as a key to access the chamber where her Emperor was trapped. Quinn sighed when the Voss finally disappeared once again. He looked over at her. "I really don't like Voss, my lord."

Lusiel chuckled. "If it weren't for the Voss, we'd be contending with the Gormak full-bore."

He shrugged. "We contend with them enough as it is. I don't see how much good the Voss are doing us."

"Ah, but the planet is so pretty. I was thinking of buying a summer home, here."

He shot her a sharp censorious look. "I know better than to take you seriously."

She threw her head back, laughing. "Right about now, rather, you're _hoping_ I'm not serious."

They began walking from the place, Quinn frowning as he followed behind her. They were both silent for several moments. Then Quinn asked, quietly. "You weren't being serious, were you?"

Lusiel laughed even harder.

* * *

Madaga-Ru watched the Sith leave, her husband following her. He heard feminine laughter, knew she was calming her husband and herself, knew she was still troubled by the bonding he'd asked of her.

He lowered his head, contemplating all he'd learned.

He understood at last how to complete his task, how to destroy Sel-Makor once and for all.

He also understood the Sith far better, the need and impulse towards darkness they contended with.

He knew the Sith Lusiel was very dark, with glimmers of light still residing in her.

He knew she faced a trial in the days to come, one that might possibly ruin her forever.

He owed her that truth.


	96. Chapter 94

**Sorry for the slower pace the past couple of days. Real life has been kicking me in the butt. Enjoy!**

* * *

Lusiel found Quinn slumped in a weary heap over a gathering of datapads strewn across a hard metallic desk in the room they'd been given at Gehn's Outpost, utterly exhausted and apparently asleep. She frowned as she regarded him, there. His eyes were lined with horrible dark circles and his hair was frayed at the ends from where he'd been pushing his fingers through it at regular intervals. Even as he slept, he seemed to be troubled, with his brow wrinkled as he were in real pain.

Another headache?

She settled the bundles she was carrying on the room's small table, thinking how strange it was she was the one who'd sought foodstuffs this evening. She settled herself on the edge of the bed, in order to yank her boots off her feet, placing them at the foot of the bed before rising and padding across the floor towards her husband. She whispered his name as she laid her hand gently against his shoulder, "Malavai?"

Quinn jerked to awareness, hissing as he lifted his head. He leaned back, felt Lusiel aligning herself against his back, and sighed. "Lusiel."

"You fell asleep. What were you working on? And where exactly do you keep all these datapads when we're traveling, by the way?" She leaned over as if to look at the datapads, but Quinn started, coming swiftly to his feet. "What's the matter," Lusiel chuckled.

"Nothing, my lord. I'm just … trying to work the best, safest route to the Dark Heart. I want to be certain you're not too weary before we truly have to battle, there." He shook his head, reaching up to grasp the back of his head, rubbing there tiredly.

Lusiel frowned. "Do you have another headache?"

"No. I mean, yes. It's not important, I'll use a stim. It's of no concern." He gathered up the datapads, stacking them as if to put them away. But Lusiel grasped his elbow.

"There's something wrong. These headaches are too common lately."

He looked at her. "Perhaps it's Voss itself, my lord. We're close to the Nightmare Lands. Many of the Voss have indicated the place is dangerous."

Lusiel appeared thoughtful. "It shouldn't be an issue. Murbeck Ghen's shard ritual should work to protect us from the effects of the Dark Forces in this region."

Quinn only looked tired. "I can't say, my lord. It's beyond me at this point."

"Dammit, Quinn."

He waved a hand. "I'll use a stim. Food will help."

Lusiel nodded, moving towards the table where she'd put the food she'd gathered from the outpost's mess. "All right. I brought custard bread and spiced warra nuts. There was rootgrass tea, as well." She heard the gentle hiss of the stim as Quinn applied it. She removed the food from the packages, heard him walking towards the table. But she still jumped when she felt his arm slide around her middle to clasp her, so that he could pull her backside flush against his front.

Quinn nuzzled her neck, sighing. "I always feel better when I touch you. Maybe I should just … keep touching you, hmm?"

Lusiel smiled. "Such added benefits are hard to deny you, Malavai."

Quinn chuckled. She felt him back away, and turned around to face him. He was smiling as he began pulling his clothes off. She reached as if to yank at her own clothes but he shook his head. "Wait." So she watched, frozen, as Quinn pushed his coat off his shoulders and yanked his shirt over his head. He toed his boots off but stopped with his fingers holding the fastenings of his pants in place. She grumbled at him, glanced back up to see him grinning. "Now, Lusiel. Show me, rather."

She whimpered. She turned her back towards him, reaching up to untie her hair, leaving it to flow in waves towards the center of her back. She released the ties of her robe, allowed it to slide free of her form towards the floor. He heard her unbuckling the armor pieces at her breast and then her legs, watched them fall with jingling sounds against the floor. Her pants joined the bundle of clothes at her feet, and she stood there, utterly naked, her dark hair obscuring the smooth expanse of her back for a moment before she reached back and ran her hands through the mass, lifting it to expose her buttocks and spine to him even as she glanced back at him over her shoulder.

Quinn watched her the entire time. But he'd dropped his pants to drape gently against his thighs, so he could grasp himself, stroking, even as he watched her. She smiled, wickedly, licking her lips. He groaned, moved backwards to ease himself onto the bed, still watching as she slowly turned to face him again and he could see her entirely. Her breasts were quivering softly with her excited breaths and she shifted gently side to side, easing the growing ache between her legs, he knew.

He continued stroking himself as he raised a hand invitingly towards her, watched her walk across the room towards him. She stopped at the foot of the bed, climbed up to kneel on the edge, before she proceeded to crawl up and along the bed, rubbing her breasts against his feet, his legs, up his groin and abdomen, before she finally straddled him, her thighs clasping his hips on either side. He reached up to cup and fondle her breasts, pulling her nipples softly. Then he leaned forward to take one of her breasts into his mouth, suckled her, tongued her nipple. Lusiel threw her head back, moving against him, rubbing her increasingly wet center all along his groin.

She reached back as if to place him at her center but Quinn murmured, "No. Don't. I want you under me, want to feel you … want to surround you, protect you." He held her, spun them both, until Lusiel lay back against the bed with Quinn propped up over her, his hands balanced on either side of her head. He grasped his cock again, rubbed it against her warmth, eased it between the lips of her sex. She sighed as she felt him sliding inside of her, whispered, "Malavai … please."

He smiled down at her, never once took his eyes off her. He reached down, hooked her thighs over his elbows, raising her hips higher to meet him as he began thrusting against her. He ran himself as deep into her as he could reach, before pulling back and then easing forward again. He moved steadily, smoothly, reveling in the feel of her warm muscles against his cock, the way her cervix clasped his head just as he touched it before moving back again, and the sounds of pleasure and enjoyment she made.

"Malavai … uh, uh … yes …" Lusiel placed her hands against his forearms, grasped him, held onto him as she began rocking her hips towards his movements, encouraging him to thrust harder into her. He groaned, rocking against her faster, shafting her, looking down to watch his hardness as it moved in and out of her, saw it glistening with her essence.

"You're beautiful, Lusiel. Glorious. You feel so good." He whispered, watching her, seeing her breasts bobbing in the light of the dusk coming from the nearby windows. She looked back at him, her eyes gleaming darkly, and he saw the pleasure bloom there, first, in the depths of her eyes, saw them widen and spark with sensation. Then she threw her head back, crying out his name with a loud shout. He kept moving, thrusting. So that she whimpered, "Too much, too much." But he shook his head at her.

"No. Again. I want to feel it again." He finally pounded against her, the sound of flesh meeting flesh filling the room, loud groans spilling from him. Lusiel moaned, wailed, reached up to dig her small nails into his chest, hard enough she left small bleeding marks there, just as she came again with another wild cry. It was finally enough. Quinn threw his head back, slamming his hips against her before his release shattered him. He shuddered against her, leaned his head down against her shoulder, breathing roughly.

Lusiel lowered her legs to the bed as she caught him against her, wrapped her arms around him and held him. She murmured soft sounds, rubbing her chin against the top of his head. He calmed gradually, soothed, closed his eyes, drifted. He felt her easing into sleep, made as if to roll off her but stopped when she held him tighter and sighed for him to stay there.

Quinn blinked sleepily, looking towards the desk. He saw the datapads stacked there, breathed out a small groan. He saw Lusiel's soft nipple pucker against his breath, licked at it softly, unable to resist. Then the datapads caught his eye again. He felt a moment of despair, tightened his arms around his wife, squeezed his eyes shut, as if by not looking at the things he might forget.

Because he'd run out of time.

The calculations were ready.


	97. Chapter 95

There were no Voss in those long ago ancient days. There were only Gormak, and they stretched across the plains and fields of the world, hunting its beasts and gathering its fruits. Then the Sith came. And the Jedi followed them, determined to halt their plundering of the world's resources. The Jedi taught some of the tribes what it was to use the Force, to manipulate it towards their will. Those people were changed by the Force, becoming a new species, not Gormak. They called themselves the Voss.

And they acted far too quickly, working to expel the Sith from the world. Their anger and their hate served to destroy the Sith who'd come to conquer the planet. But what was left behind as they died was a thing of darkness, a horrible manifestation of the bitter pall that the Voss used to destroy them.

Over time, it became a thing of will, taking on a mind of its own, this entity, and it called itself Sel-Makor. It came to despise those who'd helped to create it, inspiring in the unchanged Gormak a hatred of these new people, the Voss. So that the two groups waged war, battling across the surface of the world for generations, long enough that the truth of how the fight began was lost.

But every confrontation strengthened Sel-Makor – every fight fed him, all the suffering empowered him – until even the space where he lived and thrived grew and spread. Those who wandered too close were consumed in its darkness, descending into madness and making Sel-Makor even stronger. Some served Sel-Makor, some manifested him. The Gormak and the Voss called his place "The Nightmare Lands" and they stayed far away.

Eventually the outsiders returned. The Sith attacked Voss, so that their Emperor could seize a Voss mystic to be used as his Voice. Sel-Makor tantalized one of them with promises of power, that the Emperor himself might be seized and controlled, if only he was tricked into approaching the Dark Heart, where Sel-Makor abided. That Sith, the one called Baras - he succeeded, exciting the Emperor's curiosity, sending him to seek out the Dark Heart, where he quickly became trapped, both in the body of the Voss he inhabited and in that physical place, too.

Sel-Makor tormented the Sith Emperor, contending with him for ultimate control over his powers and his mind. There were many times that Sel-Makor believed he would triumph, that he'd win against the Emperor. But his opponent succeeded in calling out, only briefly, just enough. Because the Emperor's Wrath answered his call.

She came to the Dark Heart.

* * *

Lusiel examined the Bone Pendent, turning it over in her fisted hand. She sensed tremendous power, felt driven to reach it. So close, she felt. But the door impeded her, held securely against her progress. She had to get through, to reach the power that still called to her, compelled her, as it had since Quesh.

There was something … some feeling of … satisfaction? Something – some presence, here - was pleased that she couldn't get inside. Something heady and dark. She'd never felt anything like it. But it surrounded her, like a mist, a smoke. It was everywhere, all around. And heavy. She looked back towards Quinn, regarded him steadily. He looked so tired, so pained, still. She frowned, considering. If the dark energies of the place threatened him, it would surely be better if he withdrew now, before he was overwhelmed. Ghen's assurances of safety be damned, she thought. He'd been half mad when he told her the ritual would work, after all.

But Quinn was already examining the door. "My lord, I believe the Bone Pendant will fit in this depression, here." He smoothed one of his hands along a small hollow in the door, carefully pushing aside several pieces of moss and mold. Lusiel nodded, handing him the pendant. Quinn turned the thing until the pointed edge of its triangular shape was aimed towards the ground, maneuvered it into place, there in the recession. They both heard a click as the pendant was secured and the lock disengaged.

The Darkness pulsed through the Force, snapping angrily. A rough voice boomed out against the stillness, shattering it. "Trespasser. Defiler. Sel-Makor warns. Retreat. Relent. Death awaits."

Lusiel shook her head. "No. I am not so easily frightened."

The thing laughed. "Then die _easily_."

The door slid back, and Lusiel discerned a spattering of beastly steps, the warbling calls of bitterly angry creatures rushing towards them. Lusiel jumped, firing her lightsaber even as she landed firmly in the doorway. The crimson glow of her weapon illuminated the score of animals gathered in the small, confined space. They were maddened beasts, their eyes spinning wildly, while their claws clicked and rattled against the stone floor. Lusiel thought they appeared cat-like, like the crysfangs she'd fought as she came through the twisted forest outside. But their bodies were misshapen, deformed. And whatever limited sense they'd ever possessed was utterly void, now.

They crouched, snarling, and began leaping at her, one by one, desperately driven, compelled to destroy her. Lusiel slashed at them, her lightsaber singing through the dark. She heard Quinn calling out, then she heard the steady staccato bursts that came from his blaster. They turned their backs towards each other, settling close, guarding each other as the creatures rushed at them in mass. Animal screams filled the air, snarls and gnashing of teeth, claws scraping and scrambling. Over it all, though, was the steady song of Lusiel's blade, punctuated by the blaster shots from Quinn's weapon.

Lusiel suddenly laughed, shouting, "Maybe we should keep count. I wager I kill more of them than you."

"You haven't been counting already? I'm up to seven now."

"Hah! I can easily see eight of the beasts lying dead from here."

"Nine, my lord!"

Lusiel laughed, periodically shouting out a number as the fight continued. They persisted, firm against the onslaught. Until the beasts dwindled, the attacks slowed, gradually diminishing before them. The last of the creatures whimpered, whining in fear and hesitating to leap. But the darkness prodded them, and they leapt frenziedly towards their deaths.

Lusiel spun around, crying out happily in triumph. Quinn grinned back at her, stood silently as Lusiel swiped at the blood splattering his neck. "They didn't get you, then?"

"No, my lord. But I did manage to get fourteen of _them_."

"Victory really is mine, then. I killed seventeen of the beasts."

Quinn smiled, shrugged. "You'll always beat me."

"Oh, I think you could present me a worthy challenge."

Lusiel saw him frown, his gaze clouding. "I would not want that."

She chuckled. "I can't imagine it ever happening." Lusiel looked around, saw that the moss in the space was glowing dimly, providing light enough she could make out another door in front of them now. Quinn was quiet as he followed her towards the next door. She never noticed how subdued he had become. Lusiel was focused, rather, on the increasing presence of that power she'd first sensed back on Quesh, even as she hovered so close to death, when the blood was welling up in her throat.

It was here, she kept thinking. So close. She approached it, entered the room where she knew it was contained. So damn close. And that's when the figure turned to face her for the first time, its Voss features lighting in heady satisfaction at the sight of her.

It was power beyond words.

Lusiel had descended on several occasions into the hardest reaches of the Force, felt it at its most base level, its purest essence of rage and wrath. She'd once described the experience to her teacher, to Tremel, and he'd shuddered as she told him. She'd said it was thrilling, felt like blood pumping, spurting, like the mightiest heartbeat; it was rhythmic, pulsing, throbbing; like the thrusting of a cock into you, hard and strong; like sex at its most exciting; it was driving, compelling; and it was mad, livid, angry, directed, focused; like a blade, straight into your gut, steely and hard-edged, powerful.

Standing in front of the Emperor, knowing it was him, feeling his power descending over her – to Lusiel, it was nothing like that, nothing like the rage-filled descent she was familiar with and understood. No, this was so much greater. This was the darkest edge of the Force, rather. It was that part of the Force so grim, so gruesome and frightening, that none dared look at it too long. It was like dead things rising up again, like monsters that tore at your flesh; it was like disease that ate away your guts, until blood poured from your eyes and nose; it was fearful, horrible, dreadful; like the scariest of tales your mother told you about the shadows beyond the safety of your door, just to compel you to stay close.

The Emperor lowered his chin, regarded her, judged her. "Come to me, Wrath." Lusiel bowed down, lowering herself before him, as Quinn did, too. "You've pleased me greatly, my Wrath. It is right that it be you who strikes against Baras. He worked to trap me here, as he tried trapping you in the rocks and rubble of that poisoned planet. Through you, who he failed to destroy, I will demonstrate my anger at his playing of these old games."

Lusiel rose, nodding. She faced the Emperor without fear or doubt, and he smiled tightly. She was his Wrath, his enforcer. She would be strength incarnate, rich in rage and power. He was satisfied when she did not quaver in the face of his power, for she would strike against those who should, rather.

"I will destroy Baras, my Emperor."

"Yes. But first you will release me. Sel-Makor's dark secrets here are of import. But they will wait."

Lusiel looked around, concentrated briefly on the markings along the walls, breathed in the scents. "What are you trying to achieve here, my lord?"

"Ultimate victory."

Lusiel frowned, studying the Emperor's seemingly Voss visage. Victory over whom, Lusiel wondered, suddenly.

"I am released only when this body dies. An oversight I will not repeat. But for now, the entity Sel-Makor makes suicide impossible. I will lower my defenses. And use my Wrath to kill this body."

She nodded, obediently. "I am yours to command, my Emperor."

The Emperor threw back his shoulders, resolute. "I am ready, Wrath. Strike me down."

That's when the room began to tremble, the ground shaking. And Sel-Makor's voice rumbled again, harsh and rugged. "No! Forever bound!"

"My lord! The Emperor!" Quinn leaped forward, trying to grab the Emperor, still bound in his Voss form. But the Emperor was suddenly yanked off his feet and propelled across the room. He hit the ground hard, gasping against the pain. And his surprise was enough, his defenses already lowered in preparation for Lusiel's attack.

Sel-Makor flooded the Voss body. The Voss form slowly levitated, swirling in a mist of black and purple smoke, as it jerked and quivered. Lusiel heard the Emperor cry out, and then Sel-Makor was speaking through the Voss, yelling. "Sel-Makor takes this body! Such … power!"

Lusiel faced him, mockingly, taunting the figure that still looked Voss. "Careful, it's getting crowded in there. You may have bitten off more than you can chew. Let me help you out!" She jumped towards the figure. But she suddenly collided, roughly, with one of Sel-Makor's avatars.

The pale, scaly Gormak raised what appeared to be an actual sword, made of some kind of metal. Lusiel was stunned as the sharp-edged weapon rose over her head, wondering where he'd managed to find such an armament. Her lightsaber went up, met the blade as it swung down against her. She heard Quinn yelling something, pointing towards the corners of the room, where portals had opened to allow for more avatars to rush at them.

"Again, Quinn! Hurry!" Lusiel felt Quinn step up close behind her, his back towards hers. Once again, they fought in synchronized motion, defending each other. Lusiel slashed at the first Gormak, humming as his stomach spilled smooth intestines across the razored edge of his sword where it had fallen to the floor. She turned without missing a beat even as the beastly avatar died, sending her lightsaber in singing rotations that frustrated a second avatar's attempts to reach her. She thrust her blade into that one's hard chest, heard it warble a painful wheeze as it died.

One by one, Sel-Makor's avatars collapsed against Lusiel and Quinn's solid resistance. Lusiel could feel his hold on the Emperor weakening, heard him yelling frustrated sounds, the Voss body housing the both of them still twitching and pulling. He attempted to place a death field against Lusiel's feet but she only laughed, sending her lightsaber flying at him and forcing him to desperately block her attack, rather. The field collapsed firmly.

Lusiel leaped at the figure, finally, swinging her lightsaber out and around in a whipping motion of crimson potency, the song of her force power reaching above her even as she yelled. "Get out!" She twisted out and around him, then, lashing out against his back, felt her lightsaber plunging into the lower edge of his spine. He collapsed to his knees, unable to stand as his body withered under Lusiel's attack, wailing in agonized distress. Lusiel tossed back her head as she felt Sel-Makor's energy dissipating, shouting out in victory, heard Sel-Makor's angry howl as he spun away from the place.

The Emperor looked up at Lusiel through the orange Voss eyes, nodding. "You have done well, My Wrath. The life in this body is … ebbing. Once I am released, the Hand will know all that has transpired, here. I can not be trapped twice. The Hand will continue to guide you in the bid to ruin Baras."

Lusiel nodded, bowing her head. "You are my master in all things."

"Your time on Voss is done. Leave this place." The Emperor's Voss body gasped, wheezing. Lusiel watched as he slowly collapsed. She reached out, listening as he coughed hollowly, blood pooling, then spilling from his mouth. For a brief moment, the eyes looking up at her were truly Voss. Then they deadened.

The Emperor was freed.


	98. Chapter 96

Lusiel argued with the banker, pointing a small finger firmly in his face. "Don't think for a moment I will tolerate any interference with my funds, fool. The buyer of my last shipment of neutronium promised seventy-five thousand credits, to be depositied in my accounts. If even one credit of that amount is removed by you towards some 'transmission fee', as you call it, I'll take it back, twice over, from your damn hide."

The Imperial banking representative, a small wiry human with thinning blonde hair, actually blanched. Lusiel thought for a moment he looked like nothing more than a walking carcass, all bony and pale. "I'm so sorry, my lord. I assure you there were no fees applied to your accounts. None whatsoever. I swear." The man's thin fingers flew across his datapad, as Lusiel regarded him firmly.

She nodded, finally. "Good. Because if I have to come all the way back here to find you, I'm not sure I'll be able to stop with just hurting you." Lusiel sniffed as she turned to leave the Voss building where the Imperials had housed its banking associates. Several frightened market representatives leaped out of her way as she marched from the place.

Lusiel emerged onto the street of Voss-Ka, breathing in the scents of food coming from the nearby cantina. She heard her stomach rumble as she looked around for Quinn. The sky overhead was glowing with yellow-pink clouds as the sun set, but the shuttle wasn't scheduled to leave the city for several more hours, still. They had time to eat, she thought.

And why was it, she wondered suddenly, that Quinn didn't bother so much over their meals as he normally did. He'd taken to skipping meals entirely, even, sometimes eating only after she'd reminded him of the need. Between that and his headaches, Lusiel was increasingly glad they were leaving Voss.

"You sense the threat, yet you do not act upon it."

Lusiel spun around, taking in Madaga-Ru's golden image, there, in front of her now. "Your sudden appearances and disappearances could prove annoying, you know."

The Voss nodded back at her. "I realize that truth, yes. But I come to pay for what I took, to give you knowledge and a warning." He paced, as Lusiel glanced around. She noticed that no one else seemed to find the appearance of a gold, glowing Voss at all unusual. She wondered if she was the only one who could see him. "The Dark Heart is Sel-Makor's prison. I exist to keep him imprisoned there. It is through you that I now understand how to banish Sel-Makor forever."

Lusiel nodded. "A worthy cause, I would think."

"If Sel-Makor escapes, all existence is at risk." Lusiel watched as Madaga-Ru bowed his head, troubled. He looked back at her, suddenly firm. "Voss _demands_ payment. You helped, so I'll offer you this secret – be warned. One of your own plots to betray you."

Lusiel stumbled back. Impossible, she thought. Her mind flitted through the possibilities:

Jaesa, perhaps. But not likely. The girl's origins persisted in influencing her.

Nor would Pierce act without Jaesa's support. He was increasingly bonded to the girl.

Vette wouldn't even conceive of betraying her, she knew.

Broonmark was basking in the glory of the kills he was able to make in her name.

And Quinn?

Lusiel's mind immediately skimmed away from that chance.

Their own bond was too powerful, she believed.

"Tell me which one." Lusiel demanded.

"The vision ends. You must be the interpreter." Madaga-Ru shook his golden head. "Voss bids you farewell."

Lusiel rolled her eyes as he disappeared again. "Fat lot of help you are," she groused. Her stomach grumbled once again. But this time it was a sour, achy feeling. She sighed, looking around for Quinn once again.

Dammit. That mystic ruined her appetite.

She hated Voss.

* * *

Quinn leaned against the door of the refresher, weakly holding his stomach and groaning. The smell of vomit filled the small space. He blinked up at the roof, groaned again. He considered tossing his datapad into the disposal along with the vomit he'd already filled it with. But the words there were already imposed on his mind, and no single effort he made to force that door closed, to hide himself away in some other mental space – none of it worked.

"_The ship is located at the attached coordinates. All necessary components are on board. Your calculations have been correctly programed. Bring her. She'll pay the price if you fail_."

The price. Quinn felt his head pounding again, felt himself reeling, as the images of Lusiel trembling in his arms, begging him to protect her from her greatest fear, ripped through his mental shields all over again. And again. She would be frightened. Violated. Hurt. "Until there's nothing left, Quinn. Nothing left of her." Quinn groaned, felt his stomach twisting. Then he straightened, squared his shoulders.

He wouldn't allow it. He couldn't. He'd promised her. He would not fail her so badly as that. He'd keep her safe. He would.

Quinn washed his hands and mouth, yanked open the door. The sounds of voices and conversation filled the rooms outside the refresher, and Quinn sighed, rubbing his forehead as he approached the door leading out from the communications center. Several Imperials were gathered near the door, their uniforms marking them as junior officers, each of them excitedly holding onto pads that displayed messages from loved ones, from home. He shook his head towards them, wistful, about to walk out the door, when a Voss woman suddenly stepped into his path.

Quinn stumbled, nearly walking right into her. He recognized her, suddenly, staring at her red skin with its golden swirls. "Vonna-Xo?"

She nodded. "You remember the Shrine, I see."

"Of course, madam healer. My apologies for nearly bumping into you."

"It's not important. Only the message." Vonna-Xo stepped closer to him, looking up into his eyes. "You will fail. You will not kill her."

Quinn blinked at her, his gaze suddenly bleary. He swallowed. "You don't understand. She'll be … hurt, otherwise. There's no other way."

"No. You will fail."

He felt his stomach twisting again, looked around, desperate to avoid vomiting again. "I can't. I can't fail her." The Voss woman reached out, her healing wrapping itself around him, so that his stomach stopped roiling.

"The pain ravages you already. It will only become worse. But she will need you." Vonna-Xo continued talking. "You must give her what she needs. Or she will be destroyed."

Quinn shook his head. "I don't understand. What does she need?"

"It is not for me to interpret. Only you can do that."

She slipped away, suddenly. It seemed he only blinked and she was gone. Quinn looked around, noticed that no one had even glanced his way during the entire strange conversation. That's when his commlink began trilling. He shook his head, pulling his link out and watching as Lusiel's image appeared, there. "Quinn? Where are you? I'm ready to get off this blasted world."

Quinn looked around once again, trying to see if he could find Vonna-Xo in the crowd. He sighed, rubbed the back of his head, tiredly. "Of course, my lord. I'm on my way. It's time."


	99. Chapter 97

Jaesa jerked awake suddenly, lifting her head from the cushion of Pierce's chest, to cast her gaze sharply around the room. She snuggled closer to Pierce, tucking her hands against his hard stomach, as she listened to the loud thumping of his heartbeat.

"What's wrong?" Pierce rumbled, his voice gruff with disturbed sleep. She glanced up at him and shrugged, the curve of her shoulder smoothing against his ribs.

"I don't know. And that's the problem. Something just feels … wrong. Like there's something here, on the ship. Hiding. Like there's an intruder." Jaesa shuddered softly, felt Pierce's arm drift down across her spine.

"I watched that damn Draahg fellow go up in flames like a tindertwig, Jaesa. No way he's ever getting on this ship again." Pierce clenched his jaw. He still hated the memory of the ship battered, the doors forced wide open, and the crew thrown carelessly into heaps on the docking bay floor. Jaesa'd had a damn bootmark on her back, even, probably from where Draahg had held her down with his fucking foot. A bootmark! If he hadn't already burned alive, Pierce would've gladly given Draahg a bootmark to the balls. But he'd had to content himself with remembering how the prick screamed himself hoarse, there in that fire, rather. Not a bad memory, that.

"No. This is something different, not like Draahg. It's more like … like something rotting, or dying maybe. The more time that goes by, the stronger it seems. Like a stench. I'm not sure I've ever sensed anything like it. I know I don't like it." Jaesa had meditated endlessly over the feeling. At first, she'd thought it was just the lingering effects from Draahg's attack, as Pierce himself pointed out. But the feeling persisted, no matter what she did.

At this point, Jaesa was becoming purely frustrated at her sheer inability even to figure out what the damn sensation _was_. Always so quick to see the good and bad in those around her and, suddenly, she felt off-kilter, unable to even see what was looming so threateningly over them all. Something was just … wrong. And she couldn't find it, couldn't discern it.

Pierce suddenly lifted his large, meaty arm, and sniffed dramatically against his armpit. "Really hope it's not me stinking up the place. I mean it. I bathe every day!"

Jaesa smirked at him even as she hit him, smacking hard enough against his chest that she left a small pink handprint behind, and he yelped. He snarled, gripping her firmly as he twisted them both around until she was lying on her back with him poised over her. He grabbed her hard behind one knee, yanking her leg up and out of the way, so that he could push himself roughly against her wet center.

"You little bitch. I'll leave you dripping. Then we'll see who smells round here." Pierce sneered down at her. He laughed when Jaesa smacked against his chest again, even as she dug the nails of her other hand into his ass, pulling him closer.

* * *

Vette carefully toed open the door to the bridge, peering inside to see Quinn hard at work against one of the consoles. Behind him, the galaxy map was glowing brightly. She sighed.

She'd watched Quinn throughout the dinner meal earlier, seen him picking at his food even though he waved at Lusiel to finish hers. He really did appear ill, she'd thought. His eyes were ringed with dark circles and his hair seemed limp against his head, even if every single hair was carefully combed into place. She knew he'd been nauseous, too. He'd vomited in the refresher right after the holocall with the two creepy Emperor's Hand guys, in fact.

She was confused why no one else seemed to notice that Quinn was in trouble. It all seemed so obvious, to her. But everyone else seemed intent on their own tasks and work. Or on each other. She frowned, thinking that Jaesa and Pierce needed to get their heads yanked out of each other's pants pretty damn soon. Lord Lusiel would probably need to say something to the both of them. Except she was so damn focused on destroying Darth Baras that she barely noticed anything else lately.

Not that he didn't deserve it, mind you. Cause he did. If she herself could put a blaster bolt in Baras' face, she most definitely would. She might even enjoy it. Although his head was pretty fat, so it might just be gross. Whaddle the Hutt's head had exploded messily all over Tivva when she'd shot him, and that had been so purely disgusting Vette had puked all over the floor right there in front of his slug body.

At the moment, though, Vette was worried about Quinn. Never thought she'd have to. She would have assumed, rather, that Quinn prepared an annual checklist describing methodical tests and procedures designed to keep him from suffering anything so mundane as an illness. Then she'd thought that perhaps this wasn't necessarily a mundane illness. What sort of flu virus would be stupid enough to get inside the body of someone like Quinn, huh? A suicidal virus, she thought.

Which was why Vette was currently rocking on the heels of her feet in the doorway of the bridge she wasn't allowed to enter. She sighed, finally, and saw Quinn's head skip around to take in the sight of her standing there, holding up a bowl steaming with pukkha broth, which she knew he had a particular fondness for. Not that he'd ever said so. But she'd been able to tell he liked it when Toovee had prepared it, all the same.

"Vette, you're not allowed on the bridge." Quinn frowned at her.

"Well, Quinn. I'm not exactly on the bridge, am I?"

He sighed. "What is it you want?"

"Brought you food, duh. You hardly ate during dinner. And I know you were sick before then. You need something in your stomach, Quinn. Have a busy day tomorrow, don't you?"

Quinn blanched, looked ill again. Vette frowned at him as he swallowed back what was an obvious bout of nausea. "A busy day, yes."

"What the hell's wrong with you, Quinn?" Vette barked the question at him, her lekku twitching against her skull.

"Nothing. Bring me the soup, Vette. I'll eat it." He waved her forward, watched as she approached him with the bowl held out. She was still shaking her head at him, though.

"You're full of shit. I just can't figure out why you're not taking care of whatever the hell's upsetting you. You know, if you collapse in the stupid airlock because you're sick, you won't be able to help Lord Lusiel get this damn signal emitter thing we're going to need." Vette watched him sink into the chair in front of the glowing map as he held the bowl of broth and stared at the map blindly. "What's wrong?"

Quinn blinked. He looked down at the bowl he was holding, raised it up and sipped some of the broth, ignoring Vette's pondering. She canted her head, considering him.

"You're not sick, are you? You're … sad. Why?"

"Vette, I appreciate the broth. It's very good. Can you please return the bowl to the mess?"

"You haven't finished it."

"I can not eat anymore. Please take it."

Vette accepted the bowl, shaking her head. "Quinn, whatever it is, tell her. You know she'll help."

Quinn lowered his chin, turned his head away from Vette's scrutiny. "I have to protect her, Vette. I'm just not sure I can."

Vette wavered, shaking her lekku back off of her shoulders. "She's the strongest Sith I've ever known, Quinn. Whatever you think is threatening her, surely she can overcome it."

"Maybe. But …" Quinn suddenly groaned, clutching his head as pain stabbed against his skull.

"Dammit, Quinn. What's wrong with you?"

He growled at her suddenly. "I don't know! Just stop it! I have a stim I can use, I'll be fine. Just go."

Vette stood straight up, holding the bowl in her blue fingers like a talisman. She glared at the Imperial. "Quinn, you're being an idiot. Fix this problem before you damn well fall over. Stim or no stim, I'll make sure you're stuck in the medical bay rather than compromise our Sith during tomorrow's stupid mission." He watched as the twi'lek spun around, her lekku sailing in a circle, and she marched off the bridge.

He was suddenly proud of her. If his head wasn't pounding so painfully, he would've told her so, in fact.


	100. Chapter 98

Quinn sat in the chair next to their bed, watching her sleep.

She lay facing him, her mouth slightly open. Her lips were pink, plump, and perfect. He thought of the first time he tasted those lips, pulled her lower lip into his mouth to suck against it, and then ran his tongue between them. Her hair streamed in an ebony curtain across their pale pillows. He loved falling asleep with his face buried in that curtain. It always smelled of the sweet fruits that scented her soaps.

He glanced down, took in her form where she'd pushed aside the blankets to expose herself to the coolness of the room. Her breasts were pale, glowing crimson in the dimmed light of the room. Her pink nipples were puckered into soft buds that he ached to suckle. He remembered the first time he'd seen them, desired them. Her breasts rose and fell with the rhythm of her breathing over the tautness of her soft, flat belly. Her hips flared out into the sweetest feminine curve. And there, between her legs, the soft nest of dark curls hid the pink lips of her sex. He thought of what she tasted like, what she felt like, there.

She was the most beautiful thing. She was more perfect than anything in his life ever had been, he thought.

She frowned suddenly in her sleep, made a soft sound of distress. He watched as her hand smoothed across the sheet, knew she was looking for him. He lowered his head, sighed, waited. She soon settled back into restful sleep again.

He sat there, watching her, as the night slipped by towards morning.

When the hour finally approached, he finally rose and stepped up towards the bed. He leaned over to brush a kiss across her brow, whispered to her softly. "Lusiel, love. Yours. Forever." He closed his eyes, sighed one last time.

Then he straightened. He called to her. "My lord, it's time to wake. We've arrived at the Transponder Station."

* * *

The door clanged shut behind them. The sound was darkly ominous. Lusiel frowned as she looked back towards that entrance, then she shifted her gaze back to Quinn. She was confused as she regarded him, where he stood, his back turned towards her, his shoulders tense and taut and his head slightly lowered.

What's wrong, she wanted to ask. But his dread had been steadily growing the farther into the ship they'd moved and nevermind the utter lack of resistance they'd met as they moved. She didn't count that minor security team they'd mowed right over along the way. There simply wasn't a reason for Quinn to be so … worried. Not that she could see. She glanced around the room, taking in the crimson lights that illuminated the circular space, the machines lining the walls. Was she missing something? Some threat?

Then Quinn turned around. Lusiel looked into his eyes, saw the iced gaze he gave her, the dying expression on his face. She stopped. Everything stopped. "_Be warned. One of your own plots to betray you_." No. Not this. Not _him_. She felt herself sliding, felt coldness slipping into her blood, rushing through her.

She suddenly felt like she was trapped in that harsh white place, the cell where that mad alien had been imprisoned on Belsavis, where nothing could be seen, known or understood, where everything that once held meaning was just … gone.

"My lord. I regret …" She watched him swallow. "I regret that our paths must diverge. Out of respect, I wanted to be here to witness your fate."

She shook her head, quickly. "Speak plainly, Quinn. Say the words."

His eyes went stark. The look he gave her could have been carved from that white place. It was hard and cold. It was cruel. "Baras has always been my master. He sent me to your ship, bid me serve him all this time. I've been his loyal servant all along. And he's asked that you be killed. This entire scenario, all of it, the supposed martial law and the signal emitter - all of it is a ruse designed to bring you here where you could be killed."

Why are you saying that, she wondered madly. She knew it wasn't true. Her mind flew frantically, trying desperately to make sense of what he was talking about. Because there was none, no reason to it. It just didn't make sense. She knew what he'd done, how he'd acted despite Baras' instruction and insistence. And now this? What was going on?

Had she been so foolish? Had she missed something?

Her mind flew through memories, moments, events over the course of the past year. She thought in agitated motions, wildly running through every damn thing he'd said and done. Where could she have gone so wrong?

And the words spilled from her before she could stop them.

"I thought … I thought this was real. That you cared. I thought you loved me. But … I don't understand this." She felt tears prick at her eyes, real tears. When was the last time she'd cried, she suddenly wondered. She'd been six? Eight? Did she cry when she killed that bastard tester? Or was it when she watched her mother kill her father?

And that's when Quinn flinched.

He tried to hide it from her but he didn't move fast enough, didn't turn away quickly enough. And she saw it, saw the raw, visceral pain he'd been trying so hard to obscure. He was hurting. Her every sense was screaming out that he was in tremendous agonizing pain. _He doesn't want to do this_, she thought. Then why?

"He's forced my hand. I must side with him." Quinn stared at the far wall, refused to look at her.

_Forced my hand_, he said.

Hoth. Draahg.

Quinn's face covered in blood.

Hours before she returned to the ship.

Baras, you son of a bitch.

The understanding burst over her, like fuel over a fire.

_"You're a fool if you don't realize how deeply compromised by Darth Baras the Imperial surely is. You've said he served Baras for years, after all. Years in which Baras has slowly sunk his teeth into him. It's the only way!"_

_"A Sith who loves is vulnerable. You either eradicate the weakness. Or you make it stronger."_

_"You'll have to challenge yourself if you hope to defy your former master, Sith. You must walk a different path, not rely upon your customary ways. He knows you well enough, after all."_

_"Why haven't you already saved him? You haven't done what needs doing. You're scared! You're too late! Baras has already acted!"_

_"You've read the journals, the text. You know what you have to do!"_

_"It was a journal, master. Written by some minor Jedi. I've never even heard of her, in fact."_

_"It's the only way!"_

_"The only way!"_

Weeks, dammit. That's all that Lusiel could think of. All she could see in her mind's eye were the endless weeks in which Quinn had suffered. All the times he'd clutched his head, pained. All the times he'd struggled to eat. All the times he couldn't sleep. He'd worried, agonized. Baras made him afraid, hurt him. Baras _tortured_ him. And all of it right there in front of _her_. She'd watched him suffer and done nothing to help! She'd failed him - _failed_ her husband beyond measure. She'd left him to fight, alone, against the power of a fucking Sith, unable to truly contend with the man's power, incapable of saving himself from it. It was her responsibility to ensure he was safe from that!

Lusiel reeled.

Especially as she considered the pain he'd have to endure in the moments to come.

She might kill him.

She might destroy him utterly.

She almost vomited right there on the floor at his feet as she thought of it.

All of them had told her, warned her. Even a damn Jedi had sensed the truth of it!

And. She. Had. Still. _Failed_.

She should have done it months earlier, just as Tremel had told her.

Gods.

She began to seeth, rage.

Damn you, Baras. I will make you pay for this in ways you can not begin to imagine. I will drag you before the Council, parade you in ignoble defeat. I will ruin you. I will humiliate you. And I will hate you forever! Damn you! May you writhe in agony in the deepest, darkest depths of the Force, where agony and misery dwell, where cruel things hide and wait for victims! May they feast on you forever!

She simmered. She didn't care anymore. None of it mattered. Not Quinn's lies, because he couldn't stand to see her hurt and tried so hard to make her angry. Not his droids, even if Quinn's programming proved exceptional. Not even his supposed plans for her people, because he believed, rather, that they'd only kill him, she sensed. He actually wanted them to, in fact.

No. The only thing she wanted right then was to end the entire debacle. She wanted it over. She wanted to fix this, get him safe again. She'd do what needed doing, right now, and then no one – no Sith, ever – would be able to do this to him again. It was all that she wanted and cared about, right then. Just saving him as she should've saved him from the start.

She'd failed him. She wouldn't fail him one moment longer.

My Malavai, she thought. I'm so sorry.

Her rage was beyond intense, incredibly powerful. She actually welcomed the droids as they marched into the room, if only because she finally had something to bash against in her rage. Hell, her initial leap towards the first droid actually worked to cave in the thing's front casing! She heard the crunch of its metal surface, the rip of its inner wiring. The whining drone of its machine workings sparked and sputtered to a halt. Lusiel screamed a forceful shout towards the second droid, fueling the cry with all of her raging anger. The droid actually levitated off the ground from the power of the shout, kicking its three powerful legs futilely in the air. Lusiel spun against the thing, whipping and lashing it with her lightsaber, so that it collapsed in a metallic heap, all of its legs spinning away towards the corners of the room. She proceeded to batter against it, over and over again, bashing it until the round droid body became dark and silent, pockmarked with dozens of scratches and dents.

She spun around, looked at Quinn, saw him staring, shocked, at the droids she'd destroyed in mere moments. "My calculations were so precise," he muttered. He stumbled back. "I can't … Lusiel, I can't let him hurt you."

She shook her head, marched towards him, her lightsaber burning against her side. She saw Quinn raise his blaster, his eyes glazed. "Don't. No, Malavai." He fired. The bolt went wild. Hardly like her captain to miss. But he fired again, and this time Lusiel had to raise her lightsaber to deflect the bolt. It spun towards the ceiling. He snarled as she stepped closer to him, yelled at her. "Dammit, he'll hold you down and let them _hurt_ you!" She stopped, stared at him, her pink lips pursed. Fucking Baras, she thought. Quinn murmured at her, "I promised you."

Then he lashed out, hard, surprising her with the dagger he kept at his side and rarely used. He sent it spinning in an arc at her vulnerable belly, towards that soft place where her breastplate and leg armor didn't quite meet. She leapt back but not fast enough. She felt the burning pain of the wounding on her stomach, the cut opening a long, thin slice from one hip across her abdomen towards the other. She yelped, shocked, as she felt blood spurt against her belly. In pure reaction, she brought her lightsaber up and out, whipping it against Quinn's side. But she pulled back at the very last second, just enough to keep from cleaving him in two. Her saber still glanced across his vulnerable left side and he cried out, clutching at his side even as dark red blood welled and spilled over his fingers.

"Malavai!" She yelled his name, reaching out towards him wildly. But he waved her back, shaking his head. He glanced down her body, saw her blood dripping steadily onto the armor covering her legs. So much of it, he thought. He reached into his medical bag, trembling in pain, heard her whimper.

"Hush, Lusiel." He muttered, as he quickly programed the necessary instructions into one of his medical gadgets, watched it whir into action. He saw it spin on course towards her belly, shooting kolto in a fine mist across her wounding, there. He looked up and met her eyes, then. He blanched again, cursed. "Gods."

"_Your_ wounds, Quinn." She pushed the small medical probe away from her, angry again.

"My lord? I … I tried to kill you, my lord. I don't really … need healing."

"Do as I say, Quinn. Now."

He nodded wearily. He quickly prepared a second probe, stared at is as it whirred against his side, spitting green kolto at him. "I betrayed you, Lusiel. Conspired with your most hated enemy. There are no words of regret I could say that would ever be enough. I don't expect your mercy." He hung his head, unwilling to look at her, to see her hatred of him. He'd failed her so totally, he thought.

"Malavai?"

He looked up. She was watching him, her eyes rich and dark with unshed tears. She ran her eyes over him. He was still in pain, leaning roughly against his wounded side. Dark circles rimmed his gorgeous blue eyes. He was pale and tired, looked like he hadn't slept in years. His dark hair was mussed and unkempt. To Lusiel, he'd never looked more wonderful. He was alive, his eyes morose but shining at her.

_"It's the only way!"_

She told him, sadly, "This will hurt, Quinn. I'm sorry."

He frowned. Then he felt himself picked up. He flew back forcefully into the nearby wall. He hit the thing with a loud and terrible bang, his head flying back and smacking against the wall with an incredible thump. He moaned, looked over at Lusiel, saw her raise a hand. Her dark eyes were glittering. Was she crying?

That's when he felt the most agonizing pain spear his head. He gasped, as the sensation took hold. It felt like someone had split his skull in two so that they could root around in his brain. With razors. The agony ripped through him. He threw his head back against the wall, screamed. He screamed and screamed. He kicked madly, trying to get away, tried to raise his hands to reach his head and stop whoever was tearing apart his brain, his mind.

He heard her, then. Like a whisper, like a calm. Like she was right there next to his ear. But she was in the middle of the room, wasn't she? He screamed louder. She kept whispering. How could he hear her whispering? _"I almost have it. I'm right here. Please. I promise it will be all right."_ Ripping, breaking. He felt her reaching deep into his mind to yank against something hard and cruel there, pulling, tearing it out. The agony was intense, terrible. He kicked futilely, screaming.

_"Please … Malavai, I love you. I'm so sorry."_

He heard her _in his head_.

Then everything went black.

* * *

**My personal notes, here:**

**I know some people wanted me to change the story, so that Quinn somehow didn't betray Lusiel. But I think this particular challenge and conflict totally enlivens the story, makes it exceptional. The story becomes far more real, than it would be if the warrior just barreled through the game through countless victories and successes, with no stumbles and no upsets. Even the Jedi Knight has to contend with failure midway through her story, mind you. What makes it so much worse is that this is, really, the actual _FIRST_ _TIME_ Lusiel has ever failed. I wondered how incredibly traumatic that would be for a person, actually. ****And, no, I really don't think Quinn could've done anything differently, either. He was utterly, completely and ruthlessly manipulated and controlled, by a very powerful Sith. He was stuck, trapped.**

**Finally, for those who've asked. Lusiel's currently Darkside 4, with some minor splashing of lightside. I didn't do any extra runs through Black Talon. But I have used diplomacy for some extra DS points on occasion. **


	101. Chapter 99

Pierce was standing, braced firmly, against the wall of the engine room, his big hands wrapped around Vette's thighs as he held her high over his head so that she could reach some of the pipes running along the curve where the ceiling met the wall of the ship. She ran the arc welder back and forth over the section, carefully installing a piece of new piping where it was required.

"I might possibly be a bit perturbed by the sight of you holding another woman's thighs, Pierce."

Pierce twisted his head around to take in the sight of Jaesa perched in the doorway of the engine room. He grinned. "Hey, you might be able to use some of that nifty Sith magic to keep the Twi'lek up in the air, actually. Wanna try?"

"Don't you dare, Pierce! Dammit! No!" Vette squealed as she felt herself held up by an unseen Force, before she slowly started spinning. "Bastards! I hate you both! Argh!"

Jaesa laughed, even as she lowered Vette back down to the floor. "You were finishing up, right?"

"Don't you ever do that to me again!" Vette waved the arc welder in Jaesa's face, as her lekku twitched and shook in agitation. Jaesa started to chuckle again but then she heard an angry Talz warbling sound. She gulped, looking around, frantic. She took off running, raising her robes in one hand as she spun out of the engine room.

Vette started yelling. "No, Broonmark! No hurting the Sith Apprentice! Don't!"

Within moments, the ship was full of the sounds of stomping feet and shouts galore. Jaesa kept running in circles, terrified that if she stopped, the Talz would leap out of his invisibility and grab at her. Pierce only kept leaping around and waving his arms, trying to find Broonmark himself, yelling the entire while, "Don't you dare hurt her, you damn furball!" Vette just jumped up and down in the middle of the lounge, trilling, "Broonie! Come here, come on!" Even Toovee kept whining, although no one listened to what he was actually saying. Something about blood on the floors and how difficult it was to clean up.

Broonmark suddenly twinkled into view. Everyone stopped, staring over at him in amazement. The Talz was leaning against the wall next to the hallway leading down towards the airlock. He was bent over, making funny huffing noises that no one could really understand. Vette finally looked over at Pierce. "I think he's laughing."

Pierce scowled. "Damn right he's laughing."

Jaesa stomped her foot. "I'm going to kill it!"

Vette leaped in front of Broonmark, her blue arms held out quite dramatically. "No, you can't! He's my only hope for sanity on this ship where I'm surrounded by crazy Sith and demented Imperials!"

Jaesa rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Vette."

Vette grinned back at her. "Hey, you gotta admit. We probably looked pretty damn funny."

Jaesa eyed the Talz, who was still huffling as he glanced over at her. "Well, maybe Pierce looked funny."

"Hey!" Pierce frowned at her.

Broonmark suddenly spun around, facing the doorway leading to the airlock, crying out, "Trouble." That's when the airlock door suddenly opened and Lusiel stumbled inside dragging Quinn alongside her, his head lolling against her shoulder.

Vette trilled a cry of alarm, leaping around the Talz to help grab at the captain's limp arm. "Shit! I knew he was too sick to go with you today!"

* * *

Quinn could feel himself trembling, knew he was lying prone on a hard surface. He drifted in and out of awareness. He felt someone probing against his wounded side, moaned.

"There's no bleeding. I don't understand why he's unconscious. Did he hit his head, or something?" That was Vette, he thought. His head hurt. He vaguely remembered hitting it against the wall. Did he crack his skull?

"Jaesa. You have to check him. Make sure …" Lusiel's voice. She was trembling, too, her voice was shaking. He wanted to touch her, soothe her. Was she still bleeding? Gods, no. He'd made her bleed. He whimpered. "Jaesa, I'm not sure his mind survived."

_"Please be all right. Please. I need you. I love you. Please."_ He clenched his eyes, confused. He didn't understand. Why could he hear her whispering when her voice kept sounding from the opposite side of the room?

He heard Jaesa gasp. She was right beside him, next to Vette apparently. He tried opening his eyes but the effort hurt too much. He moaned again as shards of pain drifted through his head. Jaesa was leaning over him, whispering soothing sounds, softly calling his name. "Quinn? It's me, can you hear me?"

He felt her force abilities smooth across him, probing at him, judging him, trying to see him. That's when something in his head, something new and alien, but utterly familiar to him at the same time, shifted into awareness. It sat up and watched Jaesa's motions, judged them for threat, growled softly in warning. Jaesa acknowledged it, whispering, "Yes, I see you, master. Now, let me find him."

_"You can't hurt him."_ It spoke to her, warned her, threatened her. What is that thing, he wondered.

"I won't." Jaesa said aloud.

Quinn was confused, hurting. He was so tired. He started to drift away. But Jaesa called to him and that awareness settled back so that she could see him. He felt her ability move against him, regard him. It was all in his mind, right? He shied away from her touch, remembered the harrowing pain from before. He could hear Jaesa talking aloud, towards Lusiel nearby. "He's in tremendous pain. He feels … guilt? He's concerned for you. He is aware, master!"

Quinn heard Lusiel release what sounded like a sob. Don't cry, he thought. He wanted to go to her but he hurt too much. He heard Vette say something about the blood on her stomach, "You're bleeding, my lord." He whimpered, guilty. He felt so much remorse. He drifted, tired. Everything went away.

* * *

"He's only sleeping, master."

Lusiel nodded, pleased for the first time since she'd leaned over Quinn after he'd dropped to the floor unconscious. She'd cried as she'd searched him for a pulse, for a breath, begging him aloud to just be alive. Then finding it, feeling a puff of breath against her cheek as she leaned over him, and frantically trying to get him back to the ship, carrying him as much as she was able and using the force to hold him up otherwise, hearing him moaning against her neck as they went.

She was suddenly exhausted, so tired she wanted to just curl up on the floor right there and go to sleep. Vette turned to her, nodding towards her stomach. "You're bleeding, my lord. We need to get your wound treated."

She looked down at the blood that still dripped down onto her leg armor, inclined her head. "Help me, Vette." The twi'lek moved towards her, began unbuckling her armor and pulling it free. Her shirt was shredded in a line where the dagger had rushed. Vette prodded the area, waving at Toovee who spread a kolto salve across the laceration.

"Who cut you like this? I can't imagine you letting anyone close enough to pull it off." Vette muttered as she worked, bent over Lusiel's abdomen.

Lusiel was too tired. She replied, "Quinn."

Vette gasped, looking up at her with shock in her eyes. Pierce, still standing frozen just inside the door to the medical bay, growled angrily, "What the fuck do you mean he cut you?"

"Baras compromised him. It was a trap." Lusiel explained, tiredly, her shoulders drooping. She stared at Quinn, where he lay silent and sleeping on the nearby medical table. He was so quiet, lying there. He'd screamed so loudly, though. She sighed, remembering those horrible screams.

Pierce suddenly growled. "Should just toss him out the airlock now, my lord. Long as he's alive, we're all at risk. He's dead weight." He was sneering at the unconscious captain, actually reached down to grasp the handle of his blaster. Jaesa stood next to the table where Quinn lay, held her arms out as if to block him. Then Vette gasped and Pierce looked over at her, caught sight of Lusiel, rather.

She was glaring at him. Her eyes were hard and dark, like ebony-colored volcanic rock, fiery and dangerous. She stalked towards him and he swallowed nervously, even as he held his head up to meet her. She sent her fist flying into his face, hit him as he'd seen her hit countless enemies, the force flying through her clenched fist so that it smashed into the side of his face. He felt blood spurt into his mouth, felt two teeth come loose, and he bent over to spit them out onto the floor.

He came to rigid attention before the angry Sith Lord trembling in front of him, watching as she tried to regain control of her temper before she caused him further damage. He waited, didn't even wipe the blood off his chin. She threw her shoulders back, pointed a small finger hard into his armored chest. "The next time you ask me to kill Quinn, I'll kill _you_. Don't you ever dare to question my judgement!"

Pierce nodded, solemn. "Noted, my lord. Won't happen again. Swear it."

Lusiel spun, glaring at all of them as they stood frozen in place in front of her. "Baras is to blame for this! Do you hear me? Had it been any of you he stuck his filthy mind twisting fingers into, you would've been the ones out there on that Transponder Station waving a blaster in my face! It will be Baras that pays for this, I'll make sure of it! And if any one of you for a moment even disrespects Quinn for being the one Baras tormented, it'll be your damn limbs I use as a club when I go up against the bastard! Do you understand me?"

They all nodded. Jaesa vowed, firmly, "Baras will pay, my lord. We'll _all_ see to it."

Vette was emphatic, started bouncing. "Son of a bitch thinks he can hurt our captain. We'll get 'im."

Broonmark clicked his claws together. "Tried taking Sith mate. Punish the bad one."

Lusiel rubbed against her stomach, where her skin still smarted and burned painfully. She heard Pierce shift behind her, looked at him over her shoulder, still angry. He raised a large hand, slowly placed it on her shoulder. "Sorry, my lord. I'll move Quinn to your quarters, let him rest. He'll come to no harm while I can prevent it. I swear it."

Lusiel glanced back down at her husband, gazed at him, at the darkness tinging the skin around his eyes, the pinched expression of his mouth. He was still hurting, dammit. She nodded, finally. "See to it, lieutenant. Toovee, finish with this damn healing. And Vette? Take us to Nar Shaddaa."


	102. Chapter 100

"You're drunk." His voice sounded harsh. Lusiel blinked up at him, wobbled a nod in his direction. "Get up." He grasped her arm and yanked her out of the chair when she couldn't even stumble to her feet and stand. She felt him start pulling her from the cantina, as her sight went hazy from the bright, garish lights that just kept pulsing away all around her. She groaned.

"Don't you dare puke on my boots, Lusiel. Dammit, a mere acolyte could take you down right now. What were you thinking?" He continued to berate her, albeit quietly, as they staggered across the Promenade towards the taxi. He pushed her into the cab before climbing in behind her, toggled the direction into the vehicle, and then settled back into his seat. She was watching the lights of the city flying by as they traveled, blatantly ignoring his muttered complaints about her incredibly unwise bout of public intoxication. He even waved a cybernetic finger in her face at one point, which she, again, blatantly ignored.

They arrived at the posh Club Vertica in far too short a time for her comfort. She would've gladly sunk down into the seat of the taxi and gone to sleep, anyway. Rather, she was unceremoniously hauled out of the vehicle, so that nearby casino patrons could catcall and whistle towards Tremel, congratulating him on his good luck in finding such a "hot piece of ass". She tugged her pale pink skirt down as she waved back at them, right before she giggled up at him, which earned her another scowl and a low, angry warning, "Not one word, Lusiel. Shut. Up."

She was drunk. Not stupid. She shut up.

He proceeded to march through the casino doors and up the stairs, pulling her behind him. She watched the people as they went along, saw several gambling tables with customers lining the edges, some cheering, most crying out sympathetically to each other. A Mon Calamari suddenly leaped up onto the surface of one table, yelling out, "I did it, I won, woo hoo!" He started waving his fishy arms over his head, obviously excited. Lusiel cheered back at him, "Way to go!" She saw a Wookie pulling him back down from his perch, and laughed. Tremel rolled his eyes, "For pity's sake, Lusiel."

They staggered up the stairs and made towards a door on the far end of the hallway. Lusiel saw a group of Republic soldiers down the way towards the other end of the hall, in front of a different door. She frowned. "What's that?" Tremel grunted. "They're investigating some sort of disturbance that took place there several months ago. Something about Mandalorians. Come along."

Tremel yanked her into his room and banged the door shut. She leaned back against its surface, watching him march across the room to thow himself into a chair near the window. He regarded her angrily. "Do you have any idea what might have happened? Lusiel! There are people who depend upon you! You can not afford to let your guard down! Dammit, what would Khy say if he'd seen you out there?"

"He would've joined me, and you know it." Lusiel held up a hand. "Please, Tremel. I … I know I failed." She wilted back against the door, her chin quivering as she fought back tears. His gaze sharpened. He jumped to his feet, moving swiftly across the room to grip her arm again and pull her towards a nearby sofa. He pulled her with him as they collapsed onto the cushions, so that she ended up huddled against him, sniffling.

"Stop treating me like a child."

"Shut up. Indulge me. I miss my daughter sometimes."

"I killed her, you know."

He shrugged. "She would've killed you. I would've missed _you_ then."

"I'm not your daughter."

"I like you anyway."

They sat there, quietly, for several minutes. Lights from outside flashed spectacularly through the windows, the advertisements promising adventures and pleasures galore. She hated Nar Shaddaa. Well, maybe not that last time she was here. She'd rolled with Quinn across the bed that night. They weren't able to decide who would end up on top, as she recalled. She sighed.

"What's happened, then?" Tremel asked, finally.

"I waited too long. Baras … he used him before I did it. It was just as you'd warned."

Tremel sighed. "He's dead, then?" But Lusiel shook her head.

"No. He survived. His mind's intact, even. He's in some kind of shock, though. He's mostly slept ever since, only woke briefly last night, long enough to drink some broth that Vette forced down his throat."

Tremel lifted her away from him, turning to look her in the eyes. "He survived? Are you serious? Lusiel, this is incredible! Are you certain he has no sort of force sensitivity?"

She rolled her eyes. "He was tested as a youngster, Tremel, as I told you. Khy found the test results. I reviewed them myself. They said he would likely bear force sensitive offspring, thanks to his mother. But he'll never be force sensitive himself."

Tremel shook his head. "I don't believe that. We rarely understand how the Force works through various individuals. I think he has more potential than even you've given him credit for."

Lusiel just stared at him. "You told me to do it, when you thought for sure it would kill him."

Tremel shrugged. "He was an obvious threat, to you and your crew. Of course I told you to do it." Lusiel clambered to her feet, only wobbling a little bit as she began pacing. Tremel shook his head as she went back and forth. "There are times you really do remind me of my daughter, Lusiel. She would've been angry with me, too."

"Don't try to butter me up, Tremel. You had no right."

"Right? Which one of us was proved right in the end, hmm?"

She stopped, staring at the wall, her chin shaking again. He sighed.

"You must come to terms with this, Lusiel. You did the best that you could."

"You didn't see him, dammit. I should've done better."

"That point is moot. What you need to concern yourself with is where you go from here, rather."

She looked over at him, squared her shoulders. "The Hand is sending us to Correllia."

"Battle, then." Tremel sighed, shaking his head. "You're not prepared. Your song is dulled. If you try to fight as you are right now, Lusiel, you'll fall."

"I have no choice, you know that."

"I know you have to regain your balance."

She clenched her hands into fists. "How the hell am I supposed to do that? All I can think about is how loudly he screamed when I invaded his mind."

Tremel leaned forward, intent. "Force bonds take on many forms. I told you, to create one required pushing him to the point of death. It was the only way."

"He screamed!"

Tremel shrugged. "I'd imagine it hurt quite a bit."

"Shut up. I hate you."

"That's fine." He cocked his head towards her, shooting her a curious look. "What's it like?"

Her eyes darkened. "I can hear him if I stop and concentrate. He's … dreaming."

"It's constant, then?"

She paused. "It was strongest when Jaesa probed his mind. It seemed to move, almost like a cat stretching out its paws. And I know it threatened her."

Tremel nodded. "It's you but distinct from you, as well. It would have to be. It's a part of yourself left behind. You found what Baras had inflicted on him?"

She nodded. "Yes. It was deep. It looked like mud. Seemed to take forever to root it out."

"But it is gone?"

"Of course it is. Like I'd leave even a speck of that son of a bitch to rot there in his mind. Gods, I hate Baras! I'm going to so enjoy killing him."

Tremel chuckled. "You're such a woman, Lusiel. Such jealousy you demonstrate. Such possessiveness."

"I failed him, Tremel." Lusiel bit her lip, shaking her head sadly.

He raised his chin, glowering at her. "Get over it, my lord. There's no time to pout or sulk."

She glared back. "Why didn't I just kill you when I had the chance?"

He shrugged. "I never understood it, either, trust me."

* * *

**I decided back during the Alderaan adventure, that Lusiel was going to have to create a force bond with Quinn, in order to really prevent anyone from coercing or otherwise manipulating her through her feelings for him. I did some small research on how force bonds work, in order to get it "right". Other than some reference to a Jedi who made force bonds through an innate ability she was born with, and who I referenced earlier in the story, most bonds were created, from what I could see, through near-death experiences. Such as when Bastila bonded with Revan when she saved his life.**

**Other than that, how the force bond works is pretty much up in the air. So I made it up. I decided to manifest Lusiel's bond as a defensive awareness in Quinn's mind, which will eventually take on a stronger and more innate form as it continues to develop. If a force user attempts to use some ability on Quinn, that awareness will react, providing a warning if the ability is "good" or "helpful" and actually attacking if not. However, it's always a distinct part of Lusiel herself. She can communicate with him through the bond but he will only be able to respond during moments of extraordinary emotion, as he's not force sensitive himself.**

**And that's me, just clarifying. Hope it works, shrug.**


	103. Chapter 101

**This became much longer a chapter than I'd anticipated. I even left some stuff out and still the chapter went alot longer than I'd thought it would. So apologies up front, here. Thanks for continuing to read!**

* * *

Quinn opened his eyes slowly. The last time he'd woken, Vette had been nearby and offered him something to eat. But this time she didn't bounce into his view. The ship was quiet, actually. There was only the hum of the ship's engines, the gentle glow of the night time lighting in the room. He shifted against the cushion of the bed. That's when he became aware she was lying there next to him.

For one single moment he thought it had all been a bad dream. Just a nightmare, that he could set aside and forget about. But then his side twinged and pulled against the healing that hadn't yet finished. He was going to wear that scar forever, he thought sadly. Not that he didn't deserve it.

She was breathing. He could feel the warm push of her breaths against his shoulder. Every so often she loosed a small sigh as she continued sleeping, too. She was pressed up against him, her bare skin warm and soft where she was touching him.

He turned his head away, looked at the far wall, blinked. He didn't deserve such a precious moment, so he refused to exhult in it. He climbed free of her warmth, stumbled to his feet. He sighed as he moved towards the closet and began pulling on a uniform. He settled into the chair he'd occupied during the night before … what did he call it, he wondered? His mistake? His stupidity?

But he only shook his head, yanked his boots on, before rising back to his feet and heading towards the door. Without looking back at the bed where she remained asleep, he stepped out and shut the door behind him.

Toovee whined from his regular stance at the other end of the lounge. "Good evening, captain. And may I say you're looking much better since the last time I saw you. Are you in need of assistance?"

Quinn eyed the droid. Toovee was decked out in what looked to be a coat of some kind. It was a bright cherry-pink colored monstrosity of a garment. He wondered where Vette had managed to locate it. Where were they, in fact? "How long have I been … sleeping, Toovee?"

"You've been resting for forty-three hours and thirty-six minutes, captain. Lord Lusiel was quite adamant that you not be disturbed. Although when she left the ship, she did instruct Mistress Vette to monitor you."

"She left the ship? Where did she go?"

"I was not made aware of her destination, captain. She returned approximately seven hours ago, however. She obtained a stim from the medical bay and entered her quarters shortly afterwards."

"A stim?"

"Yes, she complained of a headache. My medical scans indicated she suffered minor alcohol poisoning."

Quinn sighed. "What else? She was … wounded earlier. Has she recovered?"

"Yes, captain. Although I am sorry to say that the wound to her stomach will result in a rather telling scar. Further, any effort she makes to become pregnant will require careful monitoring of the incision, as the scar tissue may require additional treatment."

He exhaled a hard breath. Reminded himself to breathe again, even.

"Captain? Are you well? If you require an additional rest period, I can assist you back to your quarters."

"No. I'm fine." He took another breath. Then another. "Did Lord Lusiel indicate I should remove my things from her quarters?"

"No. Lieutenant Pierce carried you to your quarters shortly after you were treated in the medical bay, by Lord Lusiel's command."

He was confused. Finally, he shook his head at the droid, asked, "Where the hell are we, anyway?"

"We're currently docked at the Nar Shaddaa spaceport, captain."

"And where is everyone?"

"Lord Lusiel is resting in your quarters. Mistress Vette and Lord Jaesa have ventured off the ship in search of what Mistress Vette called 'adventure' at one of the local cantinas. Lieutenant Pierce followed after them, saying they required an escort 'or someone would end up dead'. And Broonmark is currently stealthed next to the doorway leading towards the airlock, which he says is a necessary duty since everyone is either away from the ship or resting."

Quinn eyed the area where Toovee said the Talz was hiding. He grunted. "Hello, Broonmark."

Broonmark warbled back at him, still invisible. "Hello, Sith Mate. Good you no die."

He shrugged. He disagreed, for one thing. But he was also somewhat surprised he was still alive, too. He proceeded into the mess, with Toovee following along behind him, his garish coat glaring at him in his peripheral vision. He rubbed his head briefly.

"Captain, is your head paining you? I was instructed to monitor you carefully for any lingering headaches."

He glanced at the droid. "Who ordered you to do that?"

"Lord Lusiel. Her instructions were to ensure you didn't suffer any further distress and to inform her if you required even 'one single bit of medical attention' per physical pain of any sort. She was quite emphatic. Are you in pain?" The droid actually leaned over as if to peer into Quinn's eye. He waved the machine back.

"Don't touch me, Toovee. I'm fine." Quinn poured himself a cup of stimcaf just before he settled into a chair next to the table. Toovee rumbled nearby, quickly preparing a plate of almond-kwevvu crisp-munchies that he knew the captain usually enjoyed, only because they weren't as sugared as most baked goods were, just fruit-filled and fried. Quinn eyed the things somewhat morosely, however.

"You should eat, captain. I have been eyeing the dietary habits of the crew over the past year and while I believe some of our members are getting a little thick you are not one of them."

Quinn shot the droid a hard look. "I believe your programming has been tweaked again."

"I don't know what you could mean, captain. I do believe you are the last person who has made changes to my programming."

Quinn grunted as he consumed the pastries. "That could've been added to your programming, as well. I'll examine you later, however. For now, I wanted to examine the bridge for any reports that might need attention." He indicated Toovee should return to his regular position in the lounge as he entered the bridge. For a moment, Quinn just stood there, looking out the viewport towards the open bay where the ship was currently docked.

He only shook his head, though. Hiding from it wasn't going to change anything. He settled himself into the captain's chair and hunkered down over the console. He pulled up the medical charts over the treatments Lusiel received while he was unconscious. The laceration, he read, had required a total of five kolto treatments. Lusiel's blood loss had been qualified as "serious" only because, according to the droid's notes, "Lord Lusiel refused treatment until Captain Quinn was deemed stable". He leaned his head back against the chair, his eyes clenched shut. Other than that, she'd suffered several bruises, two of which were deemed "moderate". "Lord Lusiel took a blow to the right forearm that bruised the radius bone; no fracture apparent; healing treatments to commence." She must have done that when she was pounding that last droid, he thought dully.

His wife, he thought, was no typical Sith. He should've remembered that. Why hadn't he, in fact? Why hadn't he remembered that when Baras was insisting he'd break her, hurt her? What possible reason was there for him to have forgotten her true strength so completely, that he'd failed her so totally? He gasped, leaning over trying to think, wondering what it was that had made him forget something so simple. Didn't he tell him that? Yes! He'd said she could beat him, she could win. But then … he'd forgotten it. He just became completely convinced that Lusiel couldn't win against Baras. Why?

Quinn sighed. He gazed out the viewport, trying to think. He'd screwed up so badly. Did the crew know? If not, what had Lusiel told them? Would he be able to remain in her service? She'd slept next to him. Why? What if she divorced him? Divorce was hard as hell to obtain but not impossible. Easier to just kill him. But she hadn't. She'd gotten him back to the ship and, apparently, fought like mad to ensure he was made well again. He was confused. His head spun, wildly, with all of his mental rooms open, exposed and raw.

_"Malavai!"_

Quinn jerked, looked around the bridge trying to find Lusiel, wondering when she'd even approached the room because he hadn't heard her steps. But he was still alone.

_"Malavai, where are you? Please!"_

He jumped up. She was calling him. She sounded so frantic, so scared. Was she dreaming again? A nightmare? He rushed into the lounge, almost running into Toovee. "I'm sorry, captain. Is everything okay? Are you in pain? I must treat you if you're experiencing any pain."

"No, Toovee! Dammit, can't you hear her?"

The droid whined. "No, captain. I can't hear anything except for you. Is there a problem?"

Quinn only stared at the droid for a moment, confused. Then he rushed towards the door to the quarters he shared with Lusiel. He threw the doors open, staring into the room as the bed was suddenly illuminated.

Lusiel was standing next to the bed, wrapped in a sheet she'd apparently yanked free. She was apparently prepared to rush out of the room to find him. He stepped inside, rather. The door swished closed behind him. She was agitated as she looked at him, gasping roughly. He didn't even hesitate, just held his arms open and watched in amazement as she tumbled a few steps to wrap herself around him. The sheet slithered to the floor as he pulled her into his arms and held her, listened to her breathing hard with her head pressed to his chest.

He rubbed his jaw against the top of her head. "You called me. I think. Not very sure. I heard you anyway." He felt her nodding.

"I woke up and you weren't here. You slept for two whole days. I wasn't sure you were all right."

He frowned. "You were scared I wasn't well?"

She nodded again. But Quinn was still confused.

"Why? Lusiel, I don't understand any of this. I hurt you! I tried…" He swallowed, looking towards the far wall.

"Stop it. It's nothing, wasn't you. Damn Baras, I'll make him pay. But not now. Not here. Please. Just … Malavai, just hold me. Please? I need you." She looked up at him, pulled his head around so he'd look at her. "Please?"

_"You must give her what she needs. Or she will be destroyed."_

Quinn groaned, lifted her up to carry her back to the bed. He laid her down, looked at her lying there against the bed, her pale skin gleaming. He whispered, "I'll make it up to you, Lusiel. Right now. I'll give you everything, anything you need. I promise I'll make it better." She shook her head, tried to say something. But he shushed her, standing up straight to begin tearing his clothes off, and she went quiet, watching him.

He leaned over her once he was naked, swinging his legs onto the bed so that he could crawl up and lean over her. He pulled her legs up and apart, bracing them against his thighs. He sighed as he looked down at her, whispered, "Ah, Lusiel. Gods." She watched as he ran his fingers gently across the angry, reddened mark that ran the length of her stomach. She crooned, reaching up to cup his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.

"Don't, Malavai. Please." She raised herself up, so that she could kiss him, desperate, frantic, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and feeling him meet her with his own. He wrapped her into his arms, twisting his head so that he could feast on her mouth, her lips. He groaned as he kissed her, as she ran her fingers through his hair at the back of his head, scratched at the back of his neck. Her hips began twitching, moving back and forth, so that he could feel her buttocks rubbing rhythmically back and forth on his thighs.

But he still kissed her, held her. He lowered her back to the bed, his lips still pressed to hers. He rubbed his chest against hers in circles, felt her breasts pressing into him, crushed up against him, and he just rubbed himself on her. She moaned into his mouth, and he gently ran his tongue along her lower lip, sucked it into his mouth. He released it as she sighed, smiled at her, kissed her chin, then her neck, moving downward.

He leaned back to stare at her breasts, slowly cupped them, rubbed her nipples between his fingers. She gasped, and he looked up into her eyes. He talked to her, told her how beautiful she was, how much he loved touching her, how pretty her breasts were. She arched her back, pressed herself into his hands, and moaned. He leaned over to suck one nipple into his mouth, held it there as he tweaked it again and again with his tongue, and fondled its twin with his fingers.

She sobbed. _"Don't stop, please!"_

He assured her, promised. "Never."

Then he lavished her other nipple with his mouth, too, laving it with his tongue and suckling against her. She moaned, twisting her torso against him, arching to press herself closer to him. He buried his face between her breasts, kissed her gently there. Then he ran his tongue further down, blew a puff of air against her belly button, kissed her.

Then he stopped, laid his head softly against her belly, sighing a deep breath as he only held her. She caressed his head, ran her fingers gently across his ear, over his brow and down across his cheek. She felt his breath across her stomach, felt it against the still healing scar, there. She smiled, _"Love you."_ He squeezed her, sighing. Then he pressed a kiss just above her mound, moving down still more.

Quinn spread her legs, smoothed his hands across her inner thighs, encouraging her wider. He used his thumbs to gently press her lips apart, expose her softest flesh, watched it dew in anticipation. "Beautiful," he whispered to her. He kissed her first. Then he eased his tongue out, touched her clit, tweaked at it. Back and forth. He felt Lusiel's thighs tighten against his shoulders, held her open, as he settled down to begin suckling on that button of sensation. She began crying outloud, the sweetest moans, and then words whispered through his head, so intense that he groaned into her sex.

_"Yes … like that … so good … it feels so damn good … don't stop, don't … more … Yes!"_

He felt her quivering, her thighs shaking, as Lusiel shattered into orgasm. He moaned as she trembled and shuddered against him, gently holding her clit between his lips. He slowly released her from his mouth as she softened, gentled, easing. He looked up at her, saw her eyes were closed, saw her panting. He pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

He raised himself up onto his knees, grasped his hard erection. He lifted her, tilted her hips into position, rubbed himself against her in teasing circles. She was so wet, so perfect, so heated and warm. He groaned, as he watched himself moving against her sweet entrance. _"Malavai."_ He looked up towards her face, saw her watching him. He watched her eyes as he began sliding inside, watched her gaze darken, deepen. They both moaned as he reached the very center of her, as his groin met fully against her own.

She reached up, ran the palms of her hands down across his chest, tweaked his nipples with her fingers. He began thrusting into her, watching her the entire time, looking at her as she leaned up to continue touching him. She laid her hands on his shoulders, ran them down his arms, grasped his forearms where they were braced on either side of her. He thrust harder, until his hips were pounding against the backs of her thighs. The sound of flesh smacking against flesh filled the room, interspersed with moans from each of them.

And words. Words that spilled, one from the other, skittling across their minds as they heatedly shared their feelings and sensations.

_"Don't stop. It feels good."_

_"Lusiel."_

_"So deep in me."_

_"Wet. Love."_

He dropped his head, watching himself moving in and out of her. He could feel her, the way she was tightening, knew she was close. Faster. He moved even harder into her, the way she liked, the way he knew would make her come. She clutched him, dug her nails into his arms so hard he knew he'd be bleeding, didn't care. Because she was right there. And then he felt her shaking, flying apart, watched her eyes widen and go liquid chocolate. Her inner muscles gripped him, squeezed, and he met her orgasm with his own, felt it blazing up his spine so that he threw back his head and yelled out her name as he came harder than he'd ever come before. He buried himself as deep inside of her as he could, spurting wildly. He shook against her, quavered, as she ran her hands up and down his sweat-sheened chest.

And he reached down to grasp her backside, held her pressed to him as he rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him so that she was draped over his front. She lay on top of him, rested her head against his chest. She listened to his heart beating against her ear, sighed.

He drifted, sleepy again. How could he be sleepy when he'd slept for two days, he wondered. But he lay there, anyway. He softened inside of her but didn't fall free of her, either. So he stayed. He wrapped his arms around her and sighed.

_"It will be okay, Malavai. I'll kill him. Don't worry."_


	104. Chapter 102

Lusiel scowled as the image of Darth Baras filled the holoterminal in front of her. Aside her, Quinn rubbed his forehead, and she breathed slowly to regain her equilibrium. She was certain that suddenly bombarding her husband's mind with a flood of invectives against Baras would prove at least uncomfortable for him.

Still. She looked up at Baras, thinking, "_You slug. I'm going to squash you_."

"Consider yourself fortunate I'm reaching out to you this way, my old apprentice," Baras intoned. Lusiel nearly laughed. Instead, she settled back into her old game.

"I'm sorry. Should I know you?" She tapped her chin with a small finger, dramatically thoughtful. She heard Vette choke back a laugh and tossed her a sideways glance. Lost the game before it really started, Vette, she thought.

"Your wit has not improved." Oh, Baras, allow me to disagree, she thought, rolling her eyes. "It must be ignorance driving your actions. As wronged by me as you may feel, surely you are not intentionally defying the Emperor. You must realize the organization you are working for is not the Emperor's Hand. You are being deceived!"

Good play, Baras. She shook her head, though, smiling slightly. "How entertaining. The deceiver ranting of deceptions. By all means, continue."

"I don't blame you for doubting me and I will not apologize for my actions."

"Well, that's a relief. Here I thought we were going to drag this farce out."

"Be careful, girl! I am the Voice of the Emperor! And there is a reason for all that we do. In the end, what you think doesn't matter. But your handlers have you in over your head, sticking your wet nose in Darth business."

Lusiel bit her lip, thinking how tender Baras' nerves had grown. It had normally required much more prodding before he became bothered. Of course, she'd thus far managed to kill his sister, stole his fleet, burned his apprentice to a crisp, and freed the Emperor he was trying to supplant. His sensitivity was probably to be expected, she chuckled to herself.

She smiled happily up at him. "Soon I'll stick my lightsaber in a Darth."

"You anger has blinded you. Walk away now and perhaps our previous animosities can be set aside." He peered around her, taking in her people gathered there. "Think, child. There are those depending on you to make the correct decision, here. Family, even."

Lusiel shrugged. "They're very much the reason I'm going to kill you, Baras. Trust me."

"You're making a mistake."

She barked a laugh as soon as the man's image faded from the screen.

"You won the game, my lord." Vette whooped next to her. Lusiel grinned back at her, while everyone else looked confusedly at them.

Pierce was still staring at the holoterminal, stunned enough to be angry. "What balls. He's gonna forgive you, huh?"

Lusiel waved a hand. "He's pitifully desperate. That, or he's lost his mind. At the least, he provided us all a moment of amusement." She was still pleased she'd won the game to keep from laughing in Baras's face.

Pierce shrugged. "Well, after what he did to you and the captain, I'm looking forward to booting that son of a bitch in the ass. Pardon, my lord." He inclined his head towards Lusiel, who only shrugged.

Jaesa suddenly growled. "You're only saying what we're all thinking, Pierce. Master, we want Baras to pay for what he's done. He left scars on the both of you, brutalized Quinn. He can't be allowed to live, not after that."

"He will not live for much longer, you have my word, Jaesa." Lusiel lifted her chin. "Enough talk for now. Baras' assassins here on Corellia must be stopped." They all nodded towards her, moving away from the terminal. Quinn was still quiet, though, as he gestured for her to join him. Lusiel sighed as she followed him onto the bridge.

"What's bothering you, Quinn?" Lusiel looked at him, her head cocked to the side.

"I'm not sure what they were told, actually." Quinn dropped his gaze to the floor, obviously troubled. Lusiel exhaled.

"I told them the truth."

"They know I tried to kill you."

"They know that Baras manipulated you into trying to kill me, yes."

"I could have said no."

Lusiel scowled at him. "You did say no."

He looked back into her eyes. "How can you be sure?"

"I know you, Malavai. You said no. Probably more than once."

"But I did it."

Lusiel shrugged. "No, you didn't."

"I shot a blaster at you, Lusiel!"

"You missed."

He was starting to become angry, but Lusiel raised a hand, pointing at him.

"No, Quinn! I'm not sure you realize how little control you actually had during that encounter! It's enough you understand that I realized it, even as it happened. Now stop it!"

Quinn huffed, rocking back on his heels. He seemed bewildered all of a sudden. Lusiel actually chuckled as she watched him. "_Ah, Quinn. Not sure what to think, hmm? That's why you love me, husband. I make sure you're never bored_." She laughed outright when he frowned at her, trying to figure out if she'd spoken out loud.

Quinn angled his gaze towards the viewport, looking at the planet of Corellia outside. "You received a coded transmission, my lord. I've decrypted the message."

Lusiel hummed as she stepped up alongside him at the communications console. He tapped a series of buttons and they stood together as the message played.

"_Received your message just today. What the hell are you talking about, signal emitters and martial law over Corellia? Advise you respond to this message immediately, else I'll come looking for you. I'll leave this sorry planet and hunt down whatever bastard is feeding you that load of shit. And Force preserve the son of a bitch if you've been hurt, dammit. Where are you?_ "

Lusiel chuckled towards Quinn. "Well, that would be an awkward first meeting for the two of you, wouldn't it?"

He shrugged. "He's an agent with Imperial Intelligence, obviously. I'm not sure of the nature of your relationship with him. He does seem fond of you, however."

"You're so adorable when you're jealous, Quinn."

"I'm not jealous."

She laughed. "Make sure to tell him that when you meet him. He has a habit of making husbands jealous. To know there's one he's failed to get a rise out of will burst his little bubble."

Quinn frowned. "He makes a habit of seducing married women?"

"Oh, he doesn't limit himself to married women at all."

"And why in the hell would I want to meet him?"

Lusiel laughed again. "Because it's important you get to know my brother, silly."

Quinn looked at her, staring. Then he slowly smiled. "Khyriel."

"I thought you said you weren't jealous."


	105. Chapter 103

Quinn was focused and determined. Lusiel had told Darth Charnus she "trusted no one more than she did her captain" and he would repay her for that gift, would show her her trust was well placed.

He knelt in front of the hull-cracker, working fast to arm the explosives contained within the weapon. Pierce loomed over his back, yelling to his fellow soldiers, "Don't let the droids get too close! Keep them back!" Blaster fire resounded, and the air was soon rife with the clinking and whirring of droids that popped and exploded.

Pierce leaned over. "Hurry up, captain."

"Shut up, lieutenant. I need to do this right or we'll blow up right here and now."

Quinn yanked several wires loose from the device, examining the connections with precise, methodical care. He pulled the black connector, stripping it rapidly, before he attached it to the spark at the end of the red line.

He heard Pierce grunt, painfully, and shot him a quick glance. The soldier was batting at a spot against his side that was smoking where a blaster bolt had whizzed against him, but Quinn didn't think he was seriously injured. He was convinced of it when Pierce shot him a hard look, and shouted, "Dammit, Quinn, hurry up!"

Quinn nodded, pushing his head nearly into the interior of the hull-cracker so that he could better see the last wired connectors. He fastened the lines exactly into place, making sure all the filaments were sparking correctly. Then he jumped back to his feet, yelling towards Pierce, "Now, lieutenant. Get everyone back!"

The Imperials sprinted down the ramp, out of the hull-cracker's explosive range. Pierce gripped Quinn's arm, practically throwing him behind one of the large concrete barriers near the gate. Quinn grunted as the lieutenant suddenly dropped nearly on top of him, ducking as a large piece of burning metallic debris flew by, nearly taking his head and just glancing across his armored shoulder. Quinn pushed him off as the smoke began to slowly dissipate. Then he looked over the barrier to examine the blasted entrance into the doors of CEC's headquarters.

"We've succeeded, lieutenant." Quinn looked at Pierce, examining his shoulder. "Were you injured?"

"Nothing worth worrying over. Think there's a dent in my armor, is all." Pierce looked at the damage, sighing. "My favorite armor, too."

"It is pretty enough, Pierce, I'll grant you that." Sergeant Arlos chuckled over at him.

"Fuck you, Arlos."

"Speaking of fucking, when you bringing your little girl back to play with us again?"

"You want me to bust your face?"

The soldiers laughed quietly as they followed behind Quinn towards the doors. He glanced back at them. "Quiet. There are surely defenses inside. Stay focused on the mission."

He heard Sergeant Cole grumble an aside towards Pierce. "He hasn't changed much since Belsavis. Why haven't you pulled the stick out of his ass?"

Pierce grunted. "Shut your trap, Cole."

"I see he's rubbed off on you, Pierce."

Quinn heard a distinct thud of a fist striking against flesh, then Cole coughing. He sighed.

* * *

"I don't get it. Wasn't the merlot good enough?" Pierce snarled at Quinn. He swiped a hand across his sweat-stained brow. He glared at the dark-haired male human leaning silently against the door of the shop, scanning the two Imperial officers with an amused expression. A dark-skinned human woman was biting her lip as she stood next to him.

Quinn replied. "Lieutenant, I told you to return to the ship. I can easily restock some of the stores without you."

Pierce snorted. "How is it you manage to look all properly stiff and pressed, despite being covered head to toe in dust and blood, while I just look like something spit out by a rangkor?"

"Genetics, lieutenant. Blame your parents."

"I really do hate you sometimes, Quinn."

"The feeling is completely mutual."

The man by the door laughed outloud, earning another glare from Pierce. Not that it stopped him laughing. Pierce eyed the man's rifle, noticed its well-worn grip. He frowned. "Are you an Imperial?"

The man shook his head, spoke with a Corellian accent. "Local. You, however, are quite obviously not Corellian."

Pierce shrugged, effectively shifting the black chestpiece adorned with Sith markings on his shoulders. "Amazing observation skills you've got there."

"What can I say? I'm just good at what I do." He grinned when Pierce glared at him again.

Quinn ignored them both.

Pierce leaned over to eye the vendor's list. "What kind does she like?"

"Denta Bean."

"Well, says he's got it. What's the problem?"

"He wants to know if she's pregnant. I don't understand why."

Pierce stared at Quinn. "Well. Is she?"

Quinn glared at him. "No."

Pierce held his hands up. "Hey, it was a fair question. You two were making plenty of noise the other night."

"Shut. Up."

Pierce grunted. "Shutting up."

The Corellian was shaking his head at them. "Women crave ice cream when they're pregnant." Both Imperals stared at him. "Hey, I don't mind if you buy all of the denta bean. I only wanted some of the beebleberry." He gestured towards his female companion. "It's her favorite."

Pierce grinned at the man. "So your woman is pregnant, then?"

The Corellian whitened, his lips suddenly pursing, but his companion only laughed and shook her head.

Quinn sighed dramatically. He looked at the vendor. "I'll take all of the denta bean ice cream you have on hand. See that it's delivered to the correct docking bay."

* * *

Pierce plopped down into a chair on the other side of the table across from where Quinn was sitting. He eyed the bottle of Corellian whiskey the captain was downing very steadily. Quinn looked back at him with a glazed expression in his eyes.

Pierce leaned forward. "Have you seen Vette yet?"

Quinn nodded thoughtfully. "She was in here earlier."

Pierce chuckled. "So she won her bet, huh?"

The captain shrugged as he took another long sip from the glass he was drinking from. "I don't believe I was entertaining enough to suit her."

"Nah, you wouldn't be. You'd have to wear a purple polka dot suit first. Or any color apron. Or at least smile. She's a funny little twi'lek."

"I am not funny."

"You're certainly not funny right now, that's for sure. What the hell's the matter with you?"

Quinn looked at Pierce, glaring as much as he could, considering the room was spinning around him. "She was bleeding. Because I cut her."

"Oh, yea. Figured that's why we had to go fucking shopping earlier. And without even showering first, to boot. Gods, what a day." Pierce leaned back. He got up to get a glass for himself, before returning to the table and yanking the bottle out of Quinn's hand. He gulped back a shot of whiskey, then refilled both glasses with more of the amber-colored liquid. The two men sat there together, slowly consuming the bottle of whiskey.

Pierce finally looked over at Quinn, shaking his head. "You know it amazed me. She stood there, shaking, blood dripping all down her legs. And all she was worried about was you." Quinn flinched. But Pierce held his hand up. "No. Listen to me. Sith are weird creatures, captain. I can't really wrap my head round them, and trust me I've tried. Jaesa confuses the shit out of me!"

He took another drink.

"But the way I see it, is they have ways of doing things and thinking about things that don't necessarily make a whole helluva lot of sense. Those two Sith didn't hesitate that day, not while you were laying there on that table. Neither of them were even angry at you. Now, I don't know why, cause when she told me what happened I was certainly pissed at you."

He shook his head at Quinn.

"But not them. Not even for a moment. They just shrugged and said Baras'd done it and I should be angry at him, instead. I finally figured that they had some Sith way of knowing these things and I just shut the hell up. And maybe that's what you should be doing. You know, just accept that Baras did something to you."

Quinn blinked at him. "Is that why you haven't tried to kill me, lieutenant?"

Pierce shook his head. "Nope. That had more to do with Lord Lusiel knocking out two of my teeth and swearing she'd rip my arms off if I tried."

Quinn stared at him.

"You're an ass, lieutenant."

"You would know."


	106. Chapter 104

Borren Li was already in a bitter mood as he climbed down out of the shuttle. The irony certainly wasn't lost on him, anyway. Even if he'd accepted a contract to kill a blasted member of the Empire's Dark Council, the fact remained he was riding an Imperial shuttle into Imperial-held areas of his home planet as they fought to conquer Corellia. He scowled as he looked up to take in the plumes of thick, black smoke billowing over the skyline above Corenet City. Damn the Imps, every last one of them.

Just then, one of his fellow passengers stumbled against Borren, tripping over the lip of the ramp leading down out of the shuttle. He eyed the man coldly, saw him blanch when he noticed Borren's well-muscled frame encased in padded armor and the two blasters snuggly nestled against his thighs. He began stammering at Borren with a typically fussy Imperial manner then, his accent identifying him as some sorry bureaucratic servant, probably from Dromund Kaas itself. "Sorry, swear it. Damn ramp caught my foot. Didn't even see you there. I'll … uh … I'll get out of your way right now, promise."

Borren watched as he took off in a near sprint for the nearby door leading to the elevator. And that's when he caught sight of the two women standing there, watching him. They moved smoothly out of the terrified administrator's path, so that he could tumble by them onto the elevator. Borren's last sight of the man showed him taking a deep breath of tremendous relief as he huddled against the far wall of the conveyance, just before the door slid shut.

Borren turned his attention to his greeting party, then. Obviously Sith, he thought. The leader was smaller than her companion but there was no doubt whatsoever she was the one in charge. She exuded strength and capability. He slid his gaze down her small, armored body, his eyes lighting quickly on the curves of her breasts under the hard metal breastplate. Her robes were gray and black, with red underlinings and trim. Her face wasn't covered, either, not like so many Sith obscured their heads under ghastly helmets and masks. No, not this Sith. She proudly displayed her face, with her creamy pale skin and soft pink lips.

Not that he doubted her skill, even if she looked as purely sweet as a piece of candy. Especially with those eyes staring at him, reminding him of nothing so much as chocolate. No, this was a Sith who's career he'd followed carefully, and he knew very well she was a deadly and lethal member of her race.

He briefly eyed her companion. Her name flitted across his memory. Jaesa Willsaam was the former apprentice to the Jedi Nomen Karr, destroyed by the small Sith woman Jaesa now served loyally. He'd heard Jaesa was every bit as dangerous as her master. He eyed her.

She was certainly pretty enough. Although the woman she served was far more alluring. So he smiled seductively towards the women as he approached. "Looks like we're all alone up here, me and my welcoming party. It isn't every day a man's fortunate enough to dally with two beautiful women off in some secret corner of a battle zone."

The woman's chocolate brown eyes glinted with amusement. But she was quick, he'd give her that. "Not sure how fortunate it is when it becomes the man's secret graveyard."

"Oh you are funny. I like that. It's not often we find funny in my line of work. And I never would've thought it of you. All the stories only describe you as dangerous." Borren actually smiled at her.

"You're an admirer, then?"

"Of course. I've followed your exploits for some time now. You're the apprentice Darth Baras thought he'd killed. Marvelous." Borren leaned back against a nearby cargo barrel. "Hell, I've been following stories of you ever since you killed Lord Gratham's son back on Dromund Kaas. Turned down a job offer for that piece of work. You may want to consider the fact that man still hates you with a passion, you know."

He shook his head at her.

"I mean, I've heard you got married. Gratham's latest bounties are for the heart of your firstborn." Borren chuckled when Lusiel's eyes sharpened into anger. "You Sith are so damn predictable in your rages, huh? Although it surprises me how protective you all are of your offspring. You just seem so uncaring of the lives around you."

"You're not amusing me any longer, assassin."

"I can see that." He laughed. "Makes me wonder how unamused you'd be if I promised to hunt down the rest of your family after I destroy you. How protective of your own are you, if you go flying off the handle over threats to some creature not even born yet, even? As I said, predictable. Poor Sith. I won't laugh too much when your temper tantrum makes you clumsy."

Lusiel shook her head. "You don't understand Sith battle, I see. Anger makes us more powerful. More deadly. More dangerous." She activated the crimson length of her lightsaber. "I would've given you a quick, easy death. Now I'll saw off your damn head. And enjoy it."

Borren heard a chopping bark of laughter from Jaesa Willsaam. But his gaze was full of Lusiel, as the small woman flew through the air, her robe billowing behind her and her lightsaber singing a loud crescendo as she came at him, shouting a loud cry of war and battle to the sky. Gorgeous, he thought, even as she landed in front of him and her little fist connected with deadly force against his jaw.

At least I was able to die at home, he considered when the Sith jerked his head back and he could see more smoke flying overhead.


	107. Chapter 105

Lusiel rolled her eyes. "And here I'd thought Vowrawn particularly clever, to work right under the noses of Republic forces, where they'd never think to look for him. Then I run in here to find you." She pointed at the officer in charge. "Your accent is poking through, fool."

Captain Garret stumbled back, stammering something equally foolish about how she shouldn't mind such obvious markers of his true loyalties. Lusiel sighed loudly. She crossed her arms across her chest. "You're going to get Darth Vowrawn killed."

Nervous or not, he did stand his ground. Lusiel might have admired Garret's fortitude in the face of the threat she posed. Except his complete ineptitude disgusted her too much. Lusiel decided he must have been compelled to stand there in her way, because the man was a complete waste as a soldier. Infuriated the Sith she was seeking to protect had been so flimsily guarded, Lusiel finally flung the force at the babbling officer, tossing him across the room just as he began shouting for support.

Jaesa whooped when the flying soldier neatly collided with another soldier running into the room with his rifle held up in threat. She pulled her gleaming golden lightsaber free, nodding towards Lusiel, "I could almost believe you did that on purpose, my lord. Like a bowling match. Would have been far better if you'd knocked down more of them."

Lusiel shrugged. "It's a neat score, regardless."

"Oh, I don't know. I could perhaps try my hand at it."

"By all means."

The two women began tossing the soldiers backwards and into each other, all around the room, playfully battering the armored figures against the walls, floor and pillars that made up the space. Their game was interspersed with bantering calls towards each other, hoots for success and a few boos when one soldier or another missed a particular target. But the only sound at the end were the pitiful groans from whichever soldiers were still conscious as they all lay in sorry heaps round the room.

Captain Garret rolled over, his left eye nearly swollen shut. But he was still able to see the two Sith making their way towards him. He choked, horrified. He couldn't reach his blaster, not from where it was lying, there, on the other side of one of his downed men. But he tried hitting the black-haired Sith woman when she leaned over him.

She snorted at him. "Your arm is broken in two places, you idiot. Want your neck broken as well? Or will you just hand me the passkey to the door?"

Captain Garret looked at the Sith dazedly. Then he reached down to finger open the pouch on his belt that held the appropriate key. He shook as he handed the thing to her. Then he lay back as she stood and started walking away. The last thing he saw was the back of her boots as she stepped through the door and proceeded towards Darth Vowrawn's quarters. He sighed as he finally closed his eyes and lost consciousness.

* * *

Lord Qet stalked through the corridor, along with two of his master's Sith followers. His defeat loomed over him, he sensed it. It was like a sour note singing at him through the Force, assuring him he could not hope to succeed. He'd only once before heard that bitter sound, in the ringing of slaves' voices rising in rebellion against the dark jungles of Dromund Kaas, as the monumental edifice that should have been his master's gift to the ages, his likeness to shine through the eons, towered unfinished overhead.

And now he swallowed against that same acrimonious pill, the worst understanding, that he could not hope to succeed. That yet again he would fail. It was certain that he would die in the coming moments. Still, he refused to bow under that pressure. He would face his death wholly, with the honor befitting his master, Darth Vowrawn. His defeat would earn Vowrawn precious moments enough he might escape.

That's when he saw her for the first time, just as he came around the corner to face the lift at the far end of the penthouse quarters. He gaped at the sight of her, this tiny slip of a female, her dark hair gathered behind her head and her eyes glimmering darkly in her pale face. This was the feared enforcer that Baras had inflicted on his master? This was the mighty Sith who had destroyed so many Jedi – Jedi Masters, no less – as well as generals and admirals, and their soldiers, and hutts, pirates, and criminals? This small minx of a woman was _that_ Sith?

He nearly scoffed. Haresh had to be wrong. This woman wasn't such an awful threat. Surely he would survive this confrontation, could destroy this one single, tiny woman. He actually pointed a large meaty finger in her face, even, demanding that she come not a step further. He watched her, saw her slight gesture towards the Sith following her. The pair came to a halt, standing there in front of him.

He threw back his shoulders, so as to better loom over them. "You'll come no closer, scum."

"This one doesn't seem any smarter than the last fellow, master. How many times did you need to say 'I hate Baras' anyway? " The taller woman leaned forward to address her master.

Lusiel shrugged. "It could be plausible, that I would only claim to be opposed to Baras in order to trick Darth Vowrawn."

"You're far too blunt for that sort of approach, though."

"Ah, but you know me, Jaesa. These people do not. Their caution is understandable." She grinned at Qet suddenly. "Even commendable."

The one called Jaesa muttered then. "It's still a pain."

"I thought you enjoyed a good fight."

"There is that, yes. Maybe this one will put up a better fight than the last."

Lord Qet stepped forward, indignant. "I will not allow you to do any harm to my master. You may have defeated Haresh, somehow, but we have superior numbers now. The three of us will destroy you easily."

Lusiel looked at Qet and his Sith followers. "Really? I've seen your unfinished statue on Dromund Kaas. I'm no more impressed by you now."

Qet finally lost his temper, snarling at her. It was rather imposing, watching him, Lusiel thought. Qet was a large fellow, his shoulders broad and thick. His chest barreled outward, too. She wondered if he made it a point to eat raw meat, as his frame was particularly striking. It made the red mottled expression on his face remarkably vivid, almost like an imminent volcanic explosion. She raised her eyebrows as she waited.

"Stop! Lord Qet, stand down!"

They all froze in place, although only glances were thrown towards the newcomer. Darth Vowrawn was not as broad or large as his apprentice. But his dark purple skin with the fringe coming off his face was notably Pureblood, making him an arresting and prominent Sith. He strode forward, his shoulders held back and straight, his chin thrust up and proud. Qet glanced at him as Vowrawn stepped up to stand alongside him.

"My Lord, retreat into the shadows. We will defeat this assassin."

Vowrawn sneered back at him. "There could be ten of you and you would fail. You've completely misjudged this Sith's power. She is tremendous." Qet eyed Lusiel once again, frowning doubtfully. Vowrawn snorted at him. "Leave us."

Lusiel waved her hand dismissively. "Listen to your master, Qet."

Vowrawn exhaled. "Thank you for that. They will not be a problem for you or your master, I assure you. There is no need to destroy them." Then he nodded, his dark head going up as if in preparation. "I applaud you. Convey my congratulations to your master for his superior gameplay. I'm ready. Only … I would ask that I not suffer the indignity of decapitation."

Qet stepped back behind Vowrawn. He growled, distressed, his eyes going stark and pained. Would he truly be expected to watch such a proud Sith as his master ruined and destroyed, right in front of him, while he did nothing to prevent it? Yet, to act was to disobey, and he would not shame his master's rule now. Especially now. He glared at Lusiel, swearing vengeance once she'd struck Vowrawn down.

But Lusiel was shaking her head at Vowrawn, rather. "I've been sent by the Emperor's Hand to ensure your safety, Darth Vowrawn." She scowled. "Do not call Baras my master again. I will kill that man before I'm done. I swear it."

Qet stopped, staring at Lusiel. The anger coming from her, the palpable hatred that emanated from her small, beautiful frame – it was purely Sith, wholly real, and utterly vast. For the first time, Qet sensed how dangerous the woman was, and he shuddered. She would have swatted him down like a bug, without even a speck of sweat to dot her eyebrow when she was finished, to boot. He idly wondered what Baras had done to her, what had happened that she hated him so strongly.

Vowrawn frowned. "It's not a ruse, not a trick. You really do seek Baras' destruction. But this would mean … Hah! This is marvelous! The game is renewed!"

Qet thought he heard a mumble coming from Lusiel's apprentice, like, "Another Sith who plays games - great." He shot the girl a glance, noticed her bright yellow eyes staring back at him from under her red hood. That's when he heard a thump from behind them, followed by the telltale beeping of a countdown. He hunkered, throwing his hands up, yelling as he used the Force to create a purple-edged barrier to shield his master from the attack.

The explosion ripped through the place, lifting up the heavy table next to them before dropping it with a heady thud onto his side. Qet glanced back, saw Vowrawn slowly rising back to his feet, holding his side and muttering to himself, "Damn Baras". The resounding blast from a pistol had Qet spinning back around once again, and he braced, thinking the Weequay assassin standing in the door behind them and only now visible would succeed in killing him. _Not even a Sith_, he thought. What a waste.

But then Lusiel was there, her small frame landing smoothly in front of him. The crimson slash of her lightsaber lit the space as she blocked the bolt from impacting Lord Qet. Then she snarled towards the assassin. "I was looking for you."

The Weequay shrugged. "Get out of the way, girlie. I have a job to do."

"Funny. So do I. I wonder which one of us will succeed. No. That's a lie. I don't really wonder about that, at all."

Qet watched Lusiel, even as he gripped his master's arm and yanked him back around the large table, putting it between Vowrawn and the assassin. Lusiel flew at the Weequay, though. The sound of her lightsaber as she waved it over her head and brought it down and across the assassin's head was strident, true. Qet saw her brace her feet into the swings of her blade, her hips thrusting forward while her shoulders flared back and up, her strength amazing and beautiful. She was phenomenal, extraordinary, and he heard Vowrawn, next to him, remarking, "I'd heard the stories. Truly amazing to watch, though."

"Yes. Amazing." Qet's eyes glinted as he watched her, his groin going taut and hard. Not that Vowrawn blamed him. He himself was tantalized watching Lusiel's battle motions. A Sith like that was truly a marvel, he thought.

Jaesa yelled towards her master just then, "He has a vibroblade!" But Lusiel was already spinning out of the reach of the assassin's twisting strike. She laughed when he shouted angrily at her. Then she spun her lightsaber in a cool and easy arch of motion, so that his hand, still clutching the vibroblade he'd tried to cut her with, went flying across the room. The weequay screamed, pulling his severed limb into his chest, sputtering in pain. Lusiel spun on her feet, her lightsaber flashing in a lethal circle against the assassin's stomach. The sound of his innards falling against the floor pounded sickeningly in the room. Lusiel stepped back out of the way of the obscene mess, ignoring the hissing sound the assassin made as he finally died. She looked, instead, towards Vowrawn, making sure the Darth was safe enough.

"Are you injured, my lord?" She gestured towards his side.

"No, I'm fine. It was a minor blow, hardly worth mentioning. We must discuss our plans, though! There are measures we must take to defeat Baras' power play here on Corellia. It's why I came here." Vowrawn felt a thrill of excitement, knowing he'd finally found the tool he needed to exact the ruination of Baras.

Qet shifted next to him. "We must retire to a more defensible location, master." Vowrawn nodded at him thoughtfully.

Lusiel shrugged. "My ship and crew can provide you with adequate security, my lord."

"Oh? Do you have more Sith like this one," Vowrawn gestured towards Jaesa.

"Hardly." Lusiel chuckled. "My apprentice is remarkable, rather. She's destined for truly exceptional work as a powerful assassin in my service. The rest of my crew is just as impressive, my lord, I assure you." Jaesa lifted her chin proudly.

Qet gestured. "Who among them would you trust to guard my master, then?"

Lusiel didn't hesitate. "My captain can provide incomparable security. His tactical expertise is unmatched. And his loyalty unrivalled. He will be able to protect Darth Vowrawn as I work to secure our efforts against Baras here on Corellia."

Qet was doubtful. "An Imperial?"

Vowrawn chuckled, though. "I'm sure your crew will serve us well, Wrath."

Lusiel nodded. "I'll escort you to the transport pad, my lord. I'll have some of my people meet you there, to ensure you're safe as you return to the spaceport. We can discuss your plans as we go."


	108. Chapter 106

Vette thought that Coronet City would've been far prettier if half the buildings weren't burning. Or lying in great big piles of rubble, even. She watched a freighter ship as it swooped down over the city skyline, narrowly missing the ruined hulk of a particularly tall building as it climbed back into the dark, smoking clouds.

"What a dump," she muttered. Broonmark rumbled an agreement as he stood next to her. "Yea, Broonie. Let's get this knocked out so we can head back to the ship." Broonmark followed along behind Vette as she climbed out of the hovering speeder to hurry towards the taxi transport pad, darting around the Imperial guards gathered around the place.

"What are you doing here, you filthy little twi'lek?" One of the guards scowled towards Vette, eyeing her leathered armor and holstered blasters critically. Broonmark warbled threateningly at him, though, so that the guard tossed the Talz an equally snotty, imperious look.

"Broonie! Stop it! If you tear off his arms, Lord Lusiel might get upset." She considered the soldier sharply, even as his scowl deepened. "Maybe."

"Look, we don't have time to deal with some fool aliens who think they can just wander into an Imperial encampment. Now get on out of here before I shoot off one yer damn head tails."

Vette shrugged. "I don't know, Broonmark. Maybe Lord Lusiel will be okay with him losing _one_ arm. He has another, right?"

Broonmark warbled. "Count two arms. Soldier only needs one. Broonmark can remove left arm. Then human man can still shoot with right arm."

"See? All good," Vette smiled at the offensive guard.

"Vette, stop tormenting the poor sergeant." Lusiel was rolling her eyes when the Imperial spun around to look at her.

He gulped as he ran his gaze over her Sith armor and robes, the lightsaber tucked up against her hip. Not that she needed it, he thought. A Sith only had to _think_ of you dying, and you keeled right over, he believed, adamantly. He bowed his head towards the Sith Lord, quickly. "My lord. I am tasked with providing security at this checkpoint. Are you in need of transport? I can attend to it. Right away, my lord."

She waved a hand in his direction, watched him scamper away. Vette chuckled as he went. "Good times, my lord."

Lusiel smiled at the twi'lek. "Vette, come and meet Darth Vowrawn."

Vette bowed slowly to the Pureblood Sith who stood next to Lusiel. "My lord. It's an honor. I'm to escort you to Lord Lusiel's ship. Me and Broonmark, here." She thumbed a gesture towards the Talz.

Lord Qet, standing behind Vowrawn, sneered at her. "We're to entrust your safety to a bunch of alien slaves, my lord?"

Lusiel frowned at him. "Vette and Broonmark will be far more effective in guarding Darth Vowrawn than those sorry guards you had in front of your penthouse apartments, Qet. Although they did have some rather enjoyable uses, I'll grant you." Jaesa choked back a quick laugh.

Vowrawn chuckled. "I trust the Wrath will succeed, Lord Qet. If she says these people can secure us, then they can." Qet shrugged, still glaring at the twi'lek. But Vette ignored him. Vowrawn continued chuckling as he moved towards the speeder with Broonmark in tow.

Vette nodded at Lusiel. "The captain sent a recorded message, my lord."

Lusiel nodded as she took the data device Vette handed to her, tucking it into a pouch on her belt. Then she waved the twi'lek aside, leaning over to speak to her quietly. "Is he well, Vette?"

"Yep. The attack on CEC headquarters was successful. Apparently, Quinn managed to hack all the droids in the place, so that the things started shooting up every one of CEC board members. Pierce said it was 'a bloody fine mess' – his words, my lord."

Lusiel smiled. "I never doubted him."

"Nope. You've been quite proud of Mr. Stick Up His Butt since ya first clapped eyes on him back on Balmorra."

Lusiel raised an eyebrow at the twi'lek. "It's been some time since you called him names. What did he do now?"

"Toovee's new pink coat is missing!"

Lusiel bit her lip to keep from laughing aloud.

"It's not funny, don't laugh."

"I will not laugh."

"Hah. You're just playing that stupid game with me."

Lusiel shook her head, still biting her lip. Then she eyed Vette, suddenly serious. "So tell me the truth, Vette."

Vette looked aside, towards Broonmark, where he stood next to the speeder waiting for her. She waved at him, even as she answered Lusiel with a serious tone. "I won the bet."

Lusiel sighed, looking down at the ground. She'd sensed Quinn was still overly upset. She didn't understand why, though. She felt no anger, no upset. At least not at _him_. Why couldn't he understand?

"You know, you forget not all of us have your Sithy senses."

Lusiel rolled her eyes. "I do _not_ forget that, Vette."

"Yes, you do, my lord. It's sort of like being able to see when everyone around you is blind. Your sight gives you understandings the rest of us don't have, and you just assume everyone gets it, that they see it the way you do. Because, to you, it's just plain easy and perhaps you've always done it. But the rest of us are just stumbling along in the dark, here."

Lusiel looked at her, startled.

"My point is, he doesn't understand the way you do, that he couldn't have done any different. Hell, my lord. I don't understand it, either. But I am okay with the fact _you_ do. That's enough for me. But Quinn? He figures he failed you."

Lusiel sighed again, looking off towards one of the fires consuming a nearby office building.

Vette shrugged. "Don't worry. I won't publish the recording of him drunkenly declaring how much he loves you and how much he loves your eyes. And breasts. He thinks you have the prettiest breasts in the galaxy. He seriously said that! I'll give you the recording, okay? It'll be my birthday present."

Lusiel rolled her eyes. "Vette."

"Hey. Look. Bottom line is, you did the best you could. Don't forget that." Vette shook her head as Lusiel tried to say something. "I mean it! I know you. You had damn good reasons for whatever you decided to do. Or not do, I don't know. But things could've ended up a lot worse for all of us if you'd done anything else. I know it."

Lusiel shrugged.

"Don't think I haven't figured out Baras would've had to perform whatever nasty sorcery he did to Quinn during that invasion of our ship on Hoth." Vette shrugged when Lusiel looked at her. "Yep. Maybe you should consider what would've happened to all of us if Baras hadn't thought he'd won some kind of damn prize during that mess." She watched Lusiel frown thoughtfully.

Vette turned and called over to Broonmark that it was time to return to the spaceport. Then she looked back at Lusiel. "Hey, you could just drag out this guilt trip Quinn's suffering. He bought you a ton of denta bean ice cream yesterday, enough to keep you swimming in the stuff for at least a month. Totally up to you, though, my lord."


	109. Chapter 107

Quinn bent over the console on the bridge yet again, focusing intently on the security systems he'd put in place after the attack on Hoth. Monitors along the outer hull of the ship kept careful watch for anyone who might approach, with additional shielding on the airlock door that would activate in the event anyone attempted to access the ship without clearance to do so. Pierce and Broonmark were tasked, as well, to ensure there were weapons within easy reach in all rooms inside of the ship. The crew would not be caught off-guard again, he'd vowed.

He straightened as he heard someone stepping inside the doorway of the bridge, turned to face the Pureblood visage of the Darth his lord was duty-bound to protect. Quinn nodded at Darth Vowrawn, "My lord. Is there something you were in need of?"

"Oh, no. I was simply exploring. Lord Lusiel has such a unique and interesting assortment of people that she calls her own. And you can tell so much about a person simply by looking at what sort of people she allows close to her. Don't you agree?" Vowrawn's gaze was sharp, direct as he looked at Quinn. The Imperial forced himself to remain relaxed, to keep from tensing or otherwise appearing alarmed.

But Quinn's head was spinning. Darth Vowrawn's place on the Dark Council had him focused, normally, on concerns mattering to production and logistics, gathering the necessary supplies and essential stuffs the Empire needed in order to sustain itself and grow stronger, in fact. That didn't mean he wouldn't take time to consider other concerns the Council might worry after. Such as the rising strength and power of a young Sith Lord.

It was imperative, Quinn knew, that he not say or do anything that could allow a threat to come to his Lord. "Lord Lusiel has tremendous respect for strength and capability in her followers, my lord. Their talents are prodigious. You can rest assured of your safety. My Lord Lusiel will exceed any expectation you might offer her."

Vowrawn chuckled. "Such loyalty is impressive, captain. I wonder what's won it. You've tied yourself very firmly to Lord Lusiel. I was curious if it was mere personal gain that had you marry her. Now, though. I have to wonder."

Quinn's eyes merely flickered, so briefly even Vowrawn almost missed it. Impressive again, the Darth thought. But Quinn's response remained careful. "I'm bound in loyalty and duty to Lord Lusiel. Have no doubt, my lord."

"No, I don't doubt you in the least, actually. You know, the Council can, in some cases, set aside the marriages of those Sith Lords it deems necessary to do so." Quinn's heart raced, but he forced himself to breathe. "Of course, Lord Lusiel is not just any Sith Lord. She's the Emperor's Wrath. The Wrath is autonomous of the Council's will and control, answering only to the Emperor himself."

Quinn wasn't certain what Darth Vowrawn was trying to say. So he remained quiet, only watching Vowrawn as the Pureblood regarded him.

"Lord Qet would make a fine husband for such a warrior as the Wrath."

Quinn dropped his gaze, desperately hiding the thrill of anger that went through him at the thought. After so much, to lose her? Everything in him screamed denial. The feeling was pure, powerful. And somewhere inside him, deep in his mind, an awareness stirred, stretched itself, protective.

Vowrawn murmured, so that Quinn glanced up at him, with his eyes dark blue and glinting. "How interesting. I feel her _there_." The Pureblood nodded, as if coming to a decision. "I see, then. Very well, captain. I think you should know that I like you. I will speak well of you to Darth Marr, in fact. I believe the Wrath's husband should hold a position of rank in the military at least comparable to her own."

Quinn frowned as he watched Vowrawn turn to leave the bridge. The Darth stopped, looked back at him. "I'll inform Lord Qet to remain mindful of Lord Lusiel's marriage. I appreciate having the time to get to know you, captain."

Quinn watched as Darth Vowrawn left, and then he turned back to the consoles, taking several deep breaths as he tried to calm himself once again. He felt like he'd just won some kind of battle. If only he could figure out _what_ and _how_.

* * *

Lusiel frowned as she watched the scenery flying by through the windows of the tram, looking at the ruins of Coronet City and the desperate fighting that persisted down every street and in every window of all the devastated buildings and alleyways. She moved towards the end of the tram, settled down onto her knees to meditate. Jaesa respected her need for privacy and turned away to watch the battle as they zoomed along.

"_Malavai_," she thought, her feelings of calm smoothing towards her husband quietly. She felt the response through the bond, aware that whatever threat to him had caught her attention was already past. Quinn was relaxing.

Lusiel gathered herself once again. She pulled her commlink out to regard Quinn's message again, listened to him describing the security measures he was monitoring to ensure Vowrawn's safetly, his voice a comforting balm in a sea of battlefields and desperate fighting. "Have no concerns. We will ensure Darth Vowrawn's safety for you." Then he paused. "Be well. _My_ lord."

She smiled, just as the tram began to slow. Only Quinn could convey the strength of his emotions by merely intoning her title in just the right way. She'd repay him for that, she promised herself, as she climbed back to her feet and joined Jaesa near the doors of the tram. "Come, Jaesa. Time to introduce myself to yet another one of Baras' moles."

* * *

Lusiel leaned over the security console, just outside the shielded door leading to the bunker where the Republic Colonel Senks, actual servant of fat, vile and doomed Darth Baras, was currently huddling in terrified splendor. Behind her, she could just make out the sound of one last dying soldier, begging Jaesa for his life. "Please, don't! No!" His dying gurgles sounded wetly, then, and Jaesa came to stand next to her.

Lusiel used the device Vette had given her earlier when they'd met at the taxi transport, the one loaded with Quinn's calculations that should deactivate the security measures and passages that Senks was counting on for his escape. Jaesa chuckled as the scan completed in mere moments, all the lights on the device trilling green. The shield over the door sputtered and disappeared.

"Perfect, my lord. It's times like this, I'm glad we have him."

"Oh, yes. Quinn definitely has some spectacular uses."

Jaesa only smiled at Lusiel. "Use him well, my lord."

"We should probably hurry this along, then."

The women stepped into the room, locating Senks where he was huddled over a large console muttering about why his security was failing so dramatically. The poor fellow was in near tears, almost pounding the console in his frustration.

Baras, you fool, Lusiel thought. He'd clung to idiots like this one, rather than win and hold onto the ones with _real_ talent. Because it was Quinn's genius that undid Senks' work in mere seconds. Lusiel wanted to laugh at the thrill of victory that went through her at the thought, that Quinn was hers, she'd won him away from Baras. And when she finally killed Darth Baras, it would be with Quinn standing next to her. What an utterly delicious thought.

"The reason your security is failing just broke into your command center." Lusiel stood facing Senks when he finally spun around to see her. His face went white as he looked at her standing there with her arms crossed across her chest.

"When the alarms sounded, I knew something terrible was coming. I anticipated you being stronger than my forces. But I'm surprised you were smarter than my tech. It's a dangerous combination of talent, anyway." Senks stepped forward, still desperately searching for a way out, looking wildly between Lusiel and Jaesa. Lusiel only shrugged at him as she activated her lightsaber. "No! Don't kill me! I'm actually an Imperial agent, serving Darth Baras on the Dark Council."

Lusiel sneered at him. "That's worse than being Republic." She watched as Senks blanched even further. Sith infighting was cruel and viscious. Those Imperials caught up in the middle of such clashes rarely survived.

But Senks was a survivor, first and foremost. He prided himself on always finding a bolthole. He'd find one this time round, he had to! "Are you one of the rogue Sith Darth Baras tried to keep in line?" Lusiel rolled her eyes. "Well, okay, then. Maybe not. But surely you wouldn't threaten the Empire's course in the war, would you?"

"You're determined to find some way to needle me into letting you live, aren't you, Senks? Vowrawn told me you had a particular talent for survival. That could prove useful, perhaps." Lusiel pointed at him with the end of her lightsaber, its voice singing quietly of its hunger. Senks eyed the weapon fearfully.

"Darth Vowrawn? I know of him! He should understand I'm essential in the fight for Corellia. I steer Republic-aligned resistance forces into battles they can't win. Shut me down and we lose this war, I mean it!"

Lusiel grunted at him. "Perhaps you can survive the next few minutes. Perhaps not. Give me the information, the secrets that you've gathered for Baras, and we'll see."

Senks grew even paler, his features looking more and more like those of a rat or a weasel. He tunneled his fingers through his short hair. "He'll kill me, my lord."

"I'm systematically tearing Baras down. I'm still here. I'll be the one who finally stands on Baras' dead face, I assure you. Whether you're still alive to see me, then, is totally up to you. But choose quickly. Now."

Senks lowered his chin, thinking. "I understand." He moved towards the console, his fingers dancing across the buttons. "As Darth Vowrawn told you, I survive. I'll choose the winning side before the towers start crumbling around the loser, have no fear." He worked carefully. "Here. These are the files I prepared for Baras. Now they're yours. Is that good enough to earn your mercy?"

"I'm not fool enough to take your word for it, Senks. Wait a moment." Lusiel approached the holoterminal and keyed in the information to connect her to her ship. She watched as Darth Vowrawn's image appeared before her. "My lord, I'm transmitting the information from Colonel Senks' files."

He smiled back at her. "Excellent. Let me have your captain pull them up for me." He paused, leaning over slightly as if reading through materials in front of him. "Yes, indeed. This was the leverage Baras was using against several of my fellow Council members. They're now free of him."

Senks waved a hand towards Vowrawn. "Pardon me. Does this mean I can keep breathing?"

Vowrawn looked towards Lusiel, shrugging. He'd told her he was interested in retaining Senks as an asset but wanted her to verify the man's usefulness. Lusiel nodded back at him, subtly. Then she turned to Senks. "Colonel Senks, meet your new master," Lusiel pointed towards Vowrawn's image.

The Darth eyed the so-called Republic officer. "You heard her, colonel. Your tenure under Darth Baras has ended. You answer to me now. Is that understood?" Senks fell over himself, swearing loyalty. Lusiel smiled darkly at the man. She mentally removed another one of Baras' game pieces from the board.


	110. Chapter 108

Shadow's head was pounding so hard, his ears ringing steadily, that he couldn't even tell, at first, that the artillery bombardment had stopped. The shelling had been so steady, so regular that he'd actually become accustomed to it, he thought. Only now did he realize the abnormal effect the barrage of artillery fire had had on his senses.

He eyed the computer readouts he was working on blearily, trying to ignore the whimpering cries of wounded soldiers lying in the next room and the doctors working on them yelling out for various supplies and implements. The sounds of the battle – shots firing, soldiers yelling – that didn't stop, either.

His damn teeth felt like they were coming loose, he thought dully, as he rubbed at them with the tip of his tongue. That's when he saw a pair of blurred figures coming at him through the nearby doorway. Horrified that he'd allowed his normally keen senses to go so lax, he snatched up his pistol and actually fired a shot off in some mad dash of movement. He heard a feminine shout, saw the two figures weaving. He crowed, "Hah! I'll shoot you dead if you don't move fast to identify yourself!"

That's when Shadow heard a growling sound of anger. Then he felt a dull thud against his side, as his pistol was ripped out of his hands and sent flying. He heard it hit the wall off to the side and break into a good dozen pieces. He looked around frantically, trying to figure out who was close enough to have struck at him so solidly. But there was no one. Just the outline of a woman, standing in front of him, along with a taller feminine companion, who was leaning over and rubbing at a spot along her upper thigh.

He could hear the one woman complaining, "He missed, master. But only barely. I have a damn burn hole in my robe!" Then she looked over at Shadow. "I liked this robe, you fool!"

The smaller woman – she was just taller than Shadow's shoulder, and he was a slight man - snarled at him again. "You'd better think twice before threatening me or mine again, idiot."

Shadow frowned. He was confused. Did they say something about robes? He blinked at them. "What? Speak up, dammit! I can't hear you over this damn ringing in my ears!"

He heard an exasperated snarl this time and the small woman stepped forward, her hand coming up. "Let me help you with your ringing ears." And Shadow was suddenly held up in the air, as a silent and deadly force compelled him up and then began shaking him back and forth. He gripped at his throat, kicking his feet with futile effort, and thinking, "Robes! Sith! I'm so done." What a stupid way to die, idiotically attacking a fucking Sith in the middle of a battle zone. He actually considered arguing, or maybe excusing his stupidity, but the shaking was make his head hurt even more and he only ended up whining pitifully.

Suddenly she dropped him. Because that's who was holding him up so forcefully, the small dark-haired woman in the gray and black robes trimmed in red. Such power in such a small frame boggled the mind. Shadow climbed wearily back to his feet, holding his head in his hands and groaning in pain. "Sorry, my lord. So damn sorry, I swear it. The artillery has me rattled."

She shrugged. "I destroyed the Republic batteries. It shouldn't be long before it quiets down, here. Although the battle seems to be quite fierce even now." She pointed at him. "None of which matters to me. I need the information you've been gathering for Darth Vowrawn."

"Of course, my lord." Shadow tossed his shoulders back and began describing the information he'd been working with during so much of the last days. He squared himself when he admitted he wasn't certain which Jedi in the group of them coming to Coronet City was, in fact, spying for Baras. Surely she'd punish him for not discovering the truth.

But she only shook her head at him. "I'll just kill them all."

Shadow eyed her carefully, rubbing his neck. He'd never heard of anyone so blithely willing to take on an entire room full of Jedi, and that after running a gauntlet of Republic troopers, to boot. But if anyone could do it, he imagined it would be this particular Sith, he decided. Gods, what a terrifying woman.

* * *

Lusiel winked at Jaesa as the Jedi gathered loomingly around them. Jaesa grinned, anticipating Lusiel's newest game, what she called hide and seek as they were forging through the corridor towards the bunker where the Jedi Masters hunkered with a team of troopers.

Jaesa pointed towards the burned hole in her lower robe, and Lusiel grinned at the reminder of their bet. Lusiel had only minutes to flush out Baras' spy from among the Jedi, else replace Jaesa's robe. Lusiel was determined, rather, that she succeed so that Jaesa would provide the perfect gift. For Broonmark. The entertainment value of watching Jaesa struggle to please the Talz would be worth it, she thought.

Stars above, but she had a purely difficult time making that beast happy. Well, unless you counted basically giving him Vette, she shrugged.

Lusiel glanced around her at the neat little circle of Jedi – three of them, all Masters – along with a small cadre of troopers. They loomed threateningly. She regarded each one, gauging them through the force. But none was an obvious spy. Lusiel heard Jaesa chuckling, shot her a warning glance.

The Miraluka activated his lightsaber just then, its blue glow singing a soft song into the space. "You've failed, Sith. There's no way you'll defeat three Masters. Surrender. It's your only chance."

Lusiel rolled her eyes at him. Why the Jedi persisted in offering her surrender continued to amaze her. After the two or three Jedi she'd made very dead, she'd somehow imagined they'd realize she wasn't going to give up the fight. She could perhaps admire their tenacity. She eyed the Miraluka's lightsaber as he extended it towards her. No, she decided. It was just stupidity.

She shrugged. "Darth Baras's spy – identify yourself before I slaughter you along with these fools."

The older Jedi, a human male, shook his head at her, bewildered. "Do you honestly believe one of us is an Imperial? Madness."

"A pitiful attempt to divide us, Master Rubatin. She must be desperate." The Miraluka continued waving his lightsaber, frowning heavily under the brief blindfold he wore over his useless eyes.

"Almost out of time, master," Jaesa trilled just then. Lusiel sighed as the Jedi all looked towards her apprentice with bewildered expressions.

Lusiel threw back her shoulders, facing them determinedly, determined to win the game. "Final warning, my fellow Sith. Step forward, or die with these prattling nuisances." Only then did the final Jedi step forward, her hand upraised. She was a small human female, smaller even than Lusiel herself. Lusiel cocked her head as she regarded her.

"Wait! Don't!" The woman remained focused on Lusiel's figure, nodding. "I've heard of you, even as I hid among the Jedi. You're quickly becoming legendary. Believe it or not, they discuss you even on Tython. I'm grateful you allowed me the chance to save myself."

The other Jedi stood frozen, bewildered. Master Rubatin stared at her in amazement. "What? Master Injaye? What are you saying?"

But the tiny woman only laughed back at him. "So many years, right under your nose. I was going to lead you to your deaths. Instead, I'll watch as this powerful Sith destroys you. Today will be a day of sweet triumph. I'll bask in your destruction." The men murmured sad sounds, as Rubatin activated his lightsaber and turned to face them.

Lusiel was still staring at Injaye, though. The woman's smile faded as Lusiel began to shake her head. "I only wanted to find you, to be sure you were among the Jedi, here, today. Yours is the death I came seeking." She glanced at Jaesa, said, "Broonmark."

Jaesa sighed. "Why do you always win these games?"

"Practice, my apprentice. Lots of practice."

Jaesa groaned, then, yanking her lightsaber free even as she spun to face the Miraluka behind her. Lusiel twisted, tossing her lightsaber in a terrible, stinging arch, watching as it spun out to strike first one, then two, and finally a third trooper before it sailed back to her hand. The soldiers cried out in terrible shock. One of them turned and rushed out of the room, clutching a gaping wound in his gut, while his fellows tumbled bleeding to the ground.

Rubatin yelled towards the still stunned Injaye, "Fight with us, Injaye. In this, we're bound today."

But Injaye was too late. Lusiel stepped forward and placed her lightsaber against the woman's throat. She whimpered up at Lusiel, her light golden brown eyes awash with tears. "Why," she whispered. Lusiel replied, softly, "Ask Baras. He'll join you very soon."

Rubatin screamed out, "No!" But Lusiel's lightsaber sang as she whipped it against Injaye's neck, leaving her head to tumble with a small thump to the ground. Rubatin came at her in a rush, then, his pale green lightsaber flying towards her own head. Lusiel danced back out of his reach, swinging her red lightsaber towards his frame and forcing him to stumble to a halt just out of her reach.

Lusiel heard Jaesa's opponent call out some word in Miralukese, probably a curse of some kind. Jaesa was pressing him hard, forcing him back and against the hard wall of the bunker with the steady precision born of countless sparring sessions with her master. Jaesa's two-handed lightsaber trilled in her hands, and she yelled in happy cadence with the weapon, crying out, "Bleed like a sour nerf, you pitiful fool!" Then her blade flashed out and down, smoothly taking the Miraluka's left leg so that he tumbled with a shriek towards the floor.

Rubatin exclaimed as the younger Jedi fell, yelling. "Don't kill him!" Jaesa looked over at him, her eyebrows raised up in question. Then she glanced down at the pitifully wounded man in front of her. "Master?"

Rubatin looked at her, imploring. Lusiel shrugged, looking back at Rubatin without care. "Why are you even asking, Jaesa?" And Jaesa laughed, as her lightsaber went up and over the Miraluka's head, before smashing down over him. He cried out just once as the blade cut through his neck and shoulder, silencing him utterly.

The last Jedi stared at Lusiel sadly. "You will someday regret this."

Lusiel shook her head, though. "No. I will not. Rather, you have your peace, Jedi. And the force will free _me_." That's when she leaped, her lightsaber twisting out and around the Jedi Master. Rubatin stumbled back, still shocked at the quick deaths of his friends. But he squared himself in time, lashing his lightsaber against Lusiel's red blade in a stinging song.

The two danced together in battle, their blades sparking one against the other. Lusiel pressed, her heart beating, racing. She felt anger thrilling through her, stepped into the attack, beating at Rubatin with bitterness and rage. Her anger grew, built – the rage beat at her, consumed her. And she stumbled, her eyes going wide as she realized, finally, that the anger was pulsing through her bond with Quinn.

Attacked, she thought. She roared, a heavy threat of rageful intention, and Rubatin stumbled back and away from her, his eyes wide in shock. Jaesa was running towards the fight, but Lusiel moved quickly, heavily, and with bitter determination. Her lightsaber flashed against Rubatin, the power of the blow slicing through the hilt of his blade, taking his hands where they were clasped together to hold his weapon, before it finally embedded in the Jedi's lower chest, just above his belly.

Rubatin grunted, staring down at the length of lightsaber extending through his body. He felt blood pulsing from between his lips, heard the squelch of liquid that stole his last words. Lusiel yanked her lightsaber free, watched as the Jedi fall dead at her feet. Jaesa stared at her.

"They've attacked my people again, Jaesa. They've attacked Quinn. He's injured."


	111. Chapter 109

Alarms were peeling as Lord Qet gripped Quinn's arm under his shoulder and pulled him back and away from the airlock. The Imperial officer grunted up at him, obviously in severe pain, "The shield is holding! Ensure Darth Vowrawn is secure in the medical bay. Vette!"

Quinn felt himself shaking as he pushed Lord Qet away. The Sith nodded, rumbling, "You've saved my lord's life. You have my gratitude." Quinn only stared at him, before shaking his head. "I haven't saved him yet, my lord. But I will. I vow it." He called the twi'lek's name once again. He watched Qet rush towards the medical bay, where Pierce had dutifully pulled the Darth and now stood careful guard at the door.

Quinn hissed as he examined his thigh, the blood that ran down his leg from the gash where a ragged piece of the hull had ripped the flesh during the explosion of the airlock doors. The only thing keeping the assassin from entering the ship, now, was the energy shielding Quinn had prepared around the airlock. And even that would eventually fail, he thought, listening to what sounded like a lightsaber bashing against the shield, the ringing static of the blows crackling behind the continued blaring of the alarms.

"_Malavai. You're hurt_."

Whoever it was outside the ship, Quinn considered, was relying upon brute force rather than any sort of technical expertise, much the way how Draahg had infiltrated the ship on Hoth, as well. He'd merely bashed his way inside. It's exactly why Quinn had implemented such a sophisticated shield. However, he doubted the technology would last for any great length of time if a Sith assassin was particularly determined, enraged, or just that powerful a warrior.

And the guards and soldiers normally protecting the spaceport would scatter in the face of a Sith, too, completely unwilling to interfere in any Sith battle or fight. The crew was on its own and would have to rely upon its own devices.

"Quinn!" He turned around when Vette called his name, saw her rushing towards him, her blue lekku swinging around her. "Geez, you're bleeding like a slaughtered nerf! Again! She's going to kill someone!"

Quinn shook his head, feeling lightheaded. "_Malavai_!" He forced himself to focus on the situation in front of him. "Not now, Vette." He yanked her arm, pulling her close enough to him he could whisper to her. "Call him. We need someone to get the assassin away from the ship so that we can get the Darth out of the spaceport. Hurry."

Vette didn't waste time. She nodded as she yelled towards Broonmark to hold Quinn up as the captain fumbled at preparing a kolto probe for his leg. Then she pulled out her commlink. There was no hesitation, the signal was immediately picked up, and Vette watched as the image of her dark-haired _friend_ appeared in front of her. "Vette? What's going on?"

"Bit of a problem. Know you're nearby, saw you the other day. We're kind of in need of some help, here." Vette spoke quickly, even as the alarms blared. Broonmark, nearby, said something about Quinn's leg, "Humans bleed much when they hurt."

"Who's hurt? What's happened?" The agent was angry enough he spoke direct and firmly at her. Vette just shrugged at him. "Quinn, of course. Seems there's always something happening to make him bleed lately. Lord Lusiel is going to be pissed. But she won't get here in time to kill the assassin trying to get inside the ship, either."

"Stand by." She saw him leaning over, apparently talking to someone. Then he addressed her again. "We're on the way. We'll flank the assassin, draw him away. Be prepared to move." Vette watched as his image disappeared, shaking her head when she realized he'd never asked which docking bay the ship was berthed in. Figures he'd already know, she thought.

"Hurry. Ensure Darth Vowrawn is secured for transit. Pierce!" Quinn limped towards the medical bay. The soldier leaned his head towards Quinn, nodding. "You and Broonmark will have to provide secure positions flanking Darth Vowrawn as we move. He's already described a safe house he has in the government district of the city, but it will take us at least an hour to get there. Make sure no one gets close to the Darth as we're moving. Understood?"

Pierce grunted. "Damn straight, captain."

Vowrawn watched the crew's motions with unfettered and open curiosity. They moved precisely, methodically. There was no argument, just weapons gathered together and armors buckled into place, each member of the crew falling into the designated roles Quinn described to them without a single bit of hesitation. Quinn approached the Darth, still limping. "My lord, please follow me."

Vowrawn considered the Imperial, noted the pinched look on his face, as well as the determined turn of his brow as he motioned. The man would press forward, and nevermind the pain he was enduring. The Darth smiled at him, delighted and impressed, "Of course, captain. Lead on."

Quinn moved quickly, biting the inside of his cheek against the pain in his leg. The pounding on the airlock doors had stopped, suddenly, mere moments before. He grunted when he heard a familiar voice yelling out to him. "Captain Quinn! Move! He's on the run now!" Quinn moved fast, releasing the airlock's shield before gesturing for the others to follow him.

"Wait! How do we know these people are trustworthy?" Lord Qet peered outside, towards the two men, human by the looks of them, standing at the bottom of the ramp. One was black-haired, handsome, holding a rifle. The other had strange-looking eyes, completely blackened. Qet scowled at them.

"I trust him. Let's go." Quinn didn't hesitate. He limped quickly down the ramp.

The agent spun around to face him, his dark eyes moving quickly to Quinn's torn leg. He grumbled, shouldered his rifle and moved quickly to shoulder Quinn's frame. The group rushed through the docking bay. Pierce and Broonmark flanked Vowrawn carefully, with Broonmark snarling at the all-black-eyed male human that offered the Darth assistance. "Move away," said the Talz, until the human nodded and fell back, taking up a more defensible position. Near Vette.

Quinn called over his shoulder, "Vette! Speeders, now!"

The twi'lek jumped forward. She keyed in the controls for the speeder Lusiel relied upon when on-planet, as the agent settled Quinn inside and pointed towards the Darth that he climb in the back. Vowrawn asked, "Is the captain's leg repairable?" The agent was crouched over Quinn's leg in the front of the speeder, as Vette maneuvered the vehicle through the damaged streets and around various debris piles. The rest of the group used smaller one-man speeders to flank their own vehicle.

"No worries, my lord. My father was an Imperial doctor, you know. I figure healing's in my blood. I'm fairly good at it. Sort of skipped my sister, though. Not sure she can set a broken finger, so don't ask her to," the agent quipped.

Vowrawn chuckled. "What's your name, agent?"

Quinn answered for him, sighing. "Khyriel Phyre."

"_I'll kill them_."

He didn't doubt her.


	112. Chapter 110

Khyriel was the only one who was ever able to sneak up on her. When they were children, it was a game they played together. His skill at ferreting out whatever spot she was using to secret herself out of his detection never ceased to amase her. She'd considered several times that his skills at subterfuge and maneuvering was, in fact, a sort of force ability all its own. She wasn't surprised he excelled in his line of work, either.

As it was, though, she'd long since stopped jumping when he did manage to sneak up on her. Regardless of his ability to find her, to stealth up to her, the fact remained she never felt any sort of threat where he was concerned. So when his hands came up to grip her arms and yank her back against his chest, where he started to laugh against her ear, she only elbowed him in the stomach and stomped her booted foot in mock anger.

"Khy! Damn you! Tell me you didn't sleep with Vette!" She spun around to begin poking him in the chest.

"All right. I didn't."

"You're lying!"

"Well, if you know that, why do you want me to say otherwise?"

She rolled her eyes at him.

Khyriel laughed. "You know you love me. Besides. It worked out, didn't it? Helped save your captain. He would've bled out if I hadn't shown up when I did."

She pursed her lips. "He's well now?"

He held a hand over his heart, dramatically appalled. "You wound me! Don't you know how skilled I am?"

She just stared at him. He looked back at her, going serious. He placed a hand over her shoulder, leaning down to look her straight in the eyes. They regarded each other, their eyes so similar, like chocolate melting together. Khyriel whispered, "He's fine. Took me a few hours, only because there was an arterial bleed I had to repair as we were moving. But he's fine now. I left him sleeping at Darth Vowrawn's safe house. You'll find him in good shape when you get there." Then he pulled her into a hug.

Lusiel rested her head against his shoulder for a moment. Then she punched him in the stomach, listened to him huff a laugh. "I'm still mad about Vette. She told me you're married now. Why didn't you tell me?"

Khyriel chuckled. "You didn't invite me to your wedding, either. It hurt my feelings."

"You know that's not true. I sent you a message."

"You didn't tell me it was for your wedding! I was occupied with a business meeting."

Lusiel sighed, not saying a word about his _business_. "When will I get to meet her?"

He shook his head. "Not sure how long I'll be on Corellia."

Jaesa yelled over at her just then, "Master!" Lusiel watched her running towards them, her face frantic. Khyriel chuckled. "You didn't get on the taxi fast enough, Lou."

"Please don't call me that."

"But it's so cute."

"I'm not supposed to be cute. I'm supposed to be frightening."

He looked her up and down. "Lou, you will _never_ be frightening to me. Your head barely comes as high as my shoulder, in fact."

Lusiel sighed loudly just as Jaesa reached them. Khyriel smiled at her apprentice, hugely. "Well, aren't you a pretty thing." But Jaesa scowled back at him, "I'm not a pretty thing. I'm dangerous."

Khyriel laughed. "She's definitely _yours_, Lusiel."

* * *

Lord Qet met her at the door of Vowrawn's safe house. She glanced around the apartments, taking in the fountain pulsing a smooth stream of water in the foyer and the plush carpets on the floors. "Lord Lusiel, come. Darth Vowrawn is expecting you."

Lusiel glanced back towards Jaesa, canted her head. Her apprentice nodded, turning towards one of the side corridors. She could make out the outline of Pierce's frame outside one of the doors towards the end of the hallway and moved towards him quickly. He grunted as Jaesa approached, turning to knock on the door, calling, "Captain. She's here, wants you. Better get out here."


	113. Chapter 111

**Difficult chapter for me to write, sigh.**

* * *

Quinn stepped into the room, just as Vowrawn was laughing. "Things are heating up, aren't they? Baras has taken off the sparring gloves. This assassin was the most lethal to date." The Darth glanced up when he noticed Quinn moving forward.

Why did Lusiel always look smaller and more delicate after he'd not seen her for several days? Quinn shook his head in bewilderment as he stepped closer. Vowrawn was gesturing towards him, now.

"Your people are truly impressive, Lord Lusiel. Their talents are incredible enough when you speak of them. But to see them in action? They were so focused, so direct. Not one of them panicked or became confused. They literally stared death in the face and not once did they even flinch! If I thought you'd give them up, I'd take them from you."

"That won't happen, my lord." She turned, looking for Quinn. He subtly inclined his chin, heard her clearly. In his head. He heard her whisper his name, there. How did she do that?

Vowrawn was chuckling. "Certainly not your Captain Quinn, at least. He's fiercely loyal to you, you know. I asked."

"I'm sure that worked out quite well. For me."

The Darth laughed. "You play the game so nicely. I like you, Wrath."

She smiled. "Isn't it wonderful that we get to work together?"

Vowrawn's fringe twitched as he chuckled at her. "We should consider our next steps in that regard. It's time we should move against Baras' power here on Corellia." He looked over at Quinn. "It's good that the captain is well enough to assist us after the assassin wounded him so severely. He was magnificent, just persisted even through the pain. He refused to give up."

Quinn clasped his hands behind his back, explained, "I'm still making up for an earlier failure. I'm committed to demonstrating my capabilities are improved."

Lusiel snorted. "You didn't fail. I did."

Quinn's gaze went sharp suddenly. But Vowrawn only smiled again. "No, it's only failure if you died. Otherwise, you merely succeeded using a different plan."

Quinn dropped his eyes, staring at the floor as the two Sith proceeded to discuss their intention to free the entity Baras was stripping of power to fuel his efforts. His head was spinning, enough that Lusiel was eyeing him with a frown. He looked away from her, thinking.

"Very well, Lord Lusiel. I believe you require some time, having just arrived here. You should rest." Vowrawn nodded towards them both even as he walked from the room.

Lusiel looked at Quinn. "What's the matter?"

"Darth Vowrawn provided quarters, my lord. You really should take some time to rest. Jaesa indicated you were involved in a fierce fight with three powerful Jedi."

"Quinn."

He gestured, waving for her to follow him. She moved along with him, down the hallway towards a more private series of rooms. She glanced around curiously. "Did _you_ rest earlier, Quinn?" He smiled at her, "Your brother was very skilled. I highly doubt he failed to inform you of my welfare."

She raised her chin, frowning. "No. He's not prone to failure of any sort."

Quinn leaned back onto his heels, looked at her. "Nor are you, my lord."

Lusiel swallowed, looked down. "Not prone, no."

"Lusiel." He stepped closer to her. "I'm confused. Tell me. Explain to me why I hear your voice sometimes, even though no one else can. Why I feel as if there's something I should have realized but haven't. What's going on?"

She looked at him. Her brown eyes seemed darker than ever as she considered him. "Vette was right. I assumed you'd understand. But you don't."

"Understand what?"

"Ah, Quinn." Lusiel moved over to the bed, sat down on its edge. She watched him, her head tilted as she considered. "What happened on Hoth? When Baras confronted you, I mean. What did he say to you? What did he _do_?"

He thought, broodingly. "He tried offering me rank, prestige. I refused. So he threatened me. But I still refused. Then he became angry. I thought he would surely strike against me, then, and I'd end up like that Lanklyn fellow, the one he choked the last time we were on Hoth. But instead …" Quinn looked away from her, swallowed. "He tormented a girl, instead. Like you were scared before, back on Alderaan. He told me he'd do that to you, that he'd defeat you and torment you the same way. Over and over again, he said."

"But, Quinn. I can defeat him! It's why he strikes at me from a distance so often! He fears my strength, my power."

"I know that! That's what I told him. But then …"

"What?"

"I don't know. I just … forgot it. I don't understand why I forgot that. I just thought … there was no other way to save you from being hurt like that."

Lusiel sighed. "So that's when he did it."

"Did what?"

She shook her head. "He corrupted your mind, Quinn. Like planting a poison. It convinced you to act as he willed. Only he had to provide you some impulse to believe in, first."

He stared at her. "Then. I could fail again."

"No. I wouldn't allow that to happen. I removed the corruption."

"He could do it again!"

"No, he can't. No one else, either. Not without going around me, first."

Quinn startled. He blinked at her, remembering. She'd demanded Jaesa check to see if his mind was intact, he remembered her saying that. He remembered the pain in his head, as he was pinned up against the wall, remembered her whispering in his head, "_I almost have it, I'm right here_."

"You're in my mind. Right now. All the time."

She nodded. "We're bonded through the Force. There's always a part of me there, now."

He was still confused. "I don't understand. Why didn't you do that sooner?"

Lusiel's eyes darkened with distress. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" He stared at her. Then his eyes became dark blue, stormy, angry. "Are you saying it could have all been prevented? Lusiel, do you realize what I went through during those weeks?"

"Yes. I remember."

"But you didn't stop it!"

"I didn't know what had really happened. Not until it was too late! Then I had to do everything so fast."

"But you knew what to do. That can only be because you'd already looked into it. Gods, Lusiel. How could you have let me struggle like that?" He began to pace in front of her. Lusiel stood up against the foot of the bed, her fists clenched.

"I'm sorry. I was … afraid."

"Afraid?" Quinn scoffed, looking at her angrily. "Apparently you weren't afraid enough. I wasn't able to think straight, my head felt like it would explode practically every day, I couldn't sleep or eat – why didn't you stop it? Or better, kept it from happening at all! What were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry. I failed you, I'm so sorry. But it won't happen again."

"It should never have happened to begin with!" He couldn't even look at her, as his whole frame was shaking with anger. He swung away, staring at the far wall instead. He heard her sigh, "I was afraid."

He shook his head at her, completely disgusted. "I have work to do, my lord. You should rest. Darth Vowrawn will be ready to seek out this entity within the next few hours."

Lusiel watched as Quinn turned to leave the room. She clenched her hands together, calling out to him. "Don't! Don't do this, please don't." She sighed. "Please, Malavai. I need you. I'm sorry, believe me."

She watched him as he stood there, frozen with his back turned towards her, stiff and straight. Then he glanced back at her. He looked at her, took in her small frame, the way she clung to herself, her fingers crossed together. She was so beautiful. And all he could think of was the nights he'd agonized, when she could have prevented it entirely. Why she'd left him to such awful risk confounded him, infuriated him.

His eyes hardened, until they almost seemed like flinty bits of ice. He turned back around and strode towards her. He stood there, looming over her, looking down at her as she stared up at him. And he murmured, his voice cold. "What about when I needed you? It's always about what you need, right? So all right, then. What exactly is it that you need from me? Tell me. I'll of course get right to it. Would you like me to strip? I'll fuck you if you order it. Right here and now. Will that suffice?"

Lusiel stared at him. He could see the color draining from her face. Her eyes became desolate, filled with pure hurt. He even reached out for her, but she stumbled back before he could touch her, falling against the bed and sitting down very abruptly. She bit her lip before it could quiver but he could see the shimmer of tears lining her eyes. She looked away from him.

"Lusiel …"

"I'm fine, captain. There's nothing I need right now. Maybe later, I suppose. You're perhaps right. I should rest." Lusiel's voice was austere, the words harsh. He tried touching her shoulder but she pulled away again and he heard her response shiver through his mind, "_Leave me alone_." In his head, of course. Where she should have been sooner, he thought, suddenly angry again.

"Fine. I'll be nearby, my lord, if you decide you do need me." Quinn spun around and strode from the room. The door was just closing when he caught the sound of her muffling a sob.


	114. Chapter 112

Jaesa stomped into the kitchen. Quinn glanced over at her, across from the table where he'd gathered together necessary supplies for the mission Darth Vowrawn had asked him to attend with Lusiel. Vette was perched on a chair at the head of the table, chattering inanely just to fill the silence. Pierce and Broonmark were shoveling food into their mouths – it looked like smoked nerf with sauted cherbote root – only grunting every so often to let Vette know they weren't ignoring her.

Jaesa snarled at Quinn. "What did you do?"

He shot one eyebrow up, continued stuffing his pack with supplies in that mechanically precise fashion so peculiar to Quinn. "This is none of your concern, Jaesa."

"Really? Are you sure? Because when something happens to her, we're all affected. That's been my experience, anyway. So what the hell happened? She looks … terrible." Jaesa actually did kick the table, causing Pierce to grumble as he caught at the surface before the thing went flying.

"Enough! This has nothing to do with you, Jaesa! Now, leave it be!" Quinn shouted. He actually shouted! Vette shook her head, muttering, "Wow, and here I am with no recording device even as Quinn has a meltdown." He shot her a glare as well, so that the twi'lek sat back with her blue hands held up in mock surrender.

Jaesa, though, had gone silent and deadly-looking. Pierce tried patting her, murmuring something. But she shook him off. Her golden eyes shot daggers at the captain even as she snarled, "Don't you dare talk to me like that, Imperial. I'm not my master. I don't give enough of a shit about you to care if I break you in half."

Quinn settled back on his heels, clasping his hands behind his back as he faced Jaesa with feigned respectfulness. "Of course, my lord. Please continue."

"Argh!" Jaesa began to pace, nearly twitching she was so angry. She muttered darkly to herself. Pierce glanced over at Quinn, rolling his eyes, "You're not helping, captain." Quinn only shrugged, his expression bored. But his eyes were still glittering angrily, so that Vette sighed sadly.

Jaesa suddenly spun around, to face Quinn once again. "You're mad that she waited so long. But you don't know why, do you? Did you even ask her?"

Quinn couldn't help it, he glared at her. "There's no excuse for it!"

Jaesa's eyes widened. Then she laughed, meanly. "Oh, you poor fool. You really don't know."

Vette eyed Jaesa worriedly, trying desperately to soothe the situation. She said, "Maybe we should all take a break, try to calm down. Hey, are you hungry, Jaesa? I'm hungry. Did you see the cherbote root? It's awesome."

Jaesa didn't even acknowledge Vette had spoken. Instead, she snarled at Quinn again. "It should've killed you, you ass."

Quinn frowned at her, suddenly confused. He looked over at Vette, who was still shaking her head. Pierce and Broonmark appeared even more bewildered than they had when the altercation began. Broonmark was still holding a spoonful of softened root vegetable frozen in midair, even. Quinn looked back at Jaesa.

"Every bit of reading we did, all the journals and texts. They all said that force bonding with a non-force sensitive was dangerous, that it would probably kill you. Even if you survived, it was likely your mind would be fractured, damaged. You should've seen the way you looked lying on that table, the way she watched you! As if her whole world was ruined!" Jaesa glared at him. The others in the room wouldn't look at him, all of them remembering the event vividly right then. "She couldn't stand the thought of hurting you like that. She was protecting you all along!"

Quinn stared at her, his teeth clenched as his thoughts swirled frantically in distress. He tried mentally reaching out for Lusiel, came up against a wall in his head. He floundered, tried to remember how to breathe, gasped. Jaesa was still snarling at him, "Now. What did you do to her? I've never seen her look like that. Never!" Quinn flinched, stumbling back. She cried, he thought madly. He'd left her there crying, by herself, after she'd begged for him. Begged him! He'd hurt her, punished her – for trying to protect him. He groaned, closing his eyes.

Vette was looking around at each of them, one by one. "I don't know what to say."

Pierce heaved a sigh. "We have to get to this sorry point in order to shut you up?"

She glared at the soldier. "Jerk."

Lord Qet suddenly appeared in the doorway. "It's time. Darth Vowrawn and Lord Lusiel are prepared to leave. They're waiting for you at the entrance, captain." Quinn spun, began wildly tossing items into his pack without any care or concern for their organization. He slung the pack haphazardly over his shoulder.

Vette exhaled. "What're you going to do, Quinn?"

He looked at her. "I have to talk to her."

Jaesa snorted. "Time for talking was earlier. Oh, and doesn't that sound familiar? Should've done it sooner, hah."

Quinn ignored her, although his eyes were dark blue with pained regret. He rushed from the kitchen, his pack bouncing against his side. He strapped it into place as he moved, saw the group gathered in front of the entrance. Vowrawn was facing him and waved when he saw him approaching, crooning, "Ah, captain. We were just waiting for you." Lusiel's back was to him. She went so still and stiff when Vowrawn spoke, pointedly didn't look at him. He stepped closer to her, trying to catch her eye.

"My lord. We should speak together for a moment." He wanted to touch her, remembered the look on her face, the pain she'd showed, when he'd tried touching her before. He thought of what he'd said to her. He forced himself to breathe, biting back a moan of distress.

"There's no time for that, captain. We've waited as long as we could." She turned, looking at Vowrawn. "We'll get through whatever defenses Baras has in place. Once we're inside the chamber, we'll call for you to join us, Darth Vowrawn."

"Of course. A sound plan. I will wait for your call just outside the facility."

Lusiel nodded. She stepped towards the door, and Quinn stumbled after her. She glanced at him, then. Her dark eyes were murky, swollen and shadowed. He swallowed, tried calling to her through their bond again, straining to reach her, but he only hit that same wall. She turned and walked out of the apartments, with Vowrawn calling after her, "Let's send Baras our very best regards, shall we?"

* * *

Lusiel stood in front of the figure, obviously female, that quivered and shook in the midst of its imprisonment. Its dark energy was awesome, washing down over her in a steady drone of power and thrilling mence. She sighed as she faced it, tempered her own dark response. She felt its rage, pure and terrible. Like the pulse and beat of her own wholly incredible immersion in the deepest levels of the dark side of the Force.

Lusiel trembled, softly. And she felt the Entity exhult at their approach, its glee strong and rising. It cackled, the laughter warbling through the looming chamber.

"You come to destroy the defiler! Yes!" The Entity sang to them.

Darth Vowrawn gazed up at her, awed. "Isn't she beautiful? Such dark energy, such perfection!"

Lusiel shook her head. "All I see is a means to Baras' end."

"Free me! I will no longer aid Baras!" The Entity called to them to come closer. She seemed sad all of a sudden. "He's trapped me here for so long, too long. Every extraction of my power he's made, hurt, ripped at me. I would see him pay!"

Lusiel nodded. "I know precisely how you feel, creature. I hate him, too."

"If you fail, he will make me pay. Free me!" The Entity shook and trembled still more, its fear obvious.

Vowrawn tried calming it. "No, do not fear! It is a simple matter at this point to free you. I know the incantation that will nullify your prison. Your torment is ended." He approached the force-powered cell the Entity was trapped inside of, his dark purplish hands held up as he prepared his ritual. But the Entity sang again, warning.

"We are not … alone. His servant approaches."

Lusiel felt him, then. She stiffened, spinning around to face the man coming into the chamber from behind them. He lashed out quickly, sending Vowrawn flying into the nearby wall, before trapping him into a painful death field. Lusiel yelled, "No! Vowrawn!" She yanked at her lightsaber, felt its power coming to life as she sneered at her enemy once again, took in his scarred, torn visage, his cybernetic eyes shining at her in metallic horror.

Quinn shifted, moving off and away from the impending battle, his blaster held up and ready. Lusiel nodded as she felt him, heard his voice calling to her through their bond again, beating futilely against the walls she'd put between them. He'd been crying out to her for hours now, but she'd ruthlessly ignored him, even as she'd fought tirelessly through all of the guards and soldiers Baras had used to prevent anyone seizing the Entity from his control.

Now, though, she lowered her resistance just enough, telling him, "_Stay back, don't let him close to you_."

"_Lusiel! Wait! I …_"

She shook her head, blocking him again. He groaned.

Draahg laughed. "You didn't get the chance to see me beat his face the last time we met. I'll take his head right in front of you this time around."

Lusiel sneered. "That will be hard to do after you've been destroyed."

"I told you, I can't die! What more proof do you need? I stand here, even after you burned me alive!"

She shrugged. "Indeed. You truly are a glutton for punishment, coming back to fail yet again. How delightful."

"Pain sustains me, actually. I relished it when you watched me burn. Drank of it as Baras rebuilt me," he said, smoothing his fingers across his metallic implants, his scarred flesh. The motion was sensual and erotic.

Lusiel frowned at him, obviously repelled. "No need to rub yourself. I get the point."

Draahg laughed. "You would have enjoyed belonging to me. I would have taught you such incredible pleasures, how to savor the fullest measure of pain." He looked at Quinn, saw his anger and his revulsion, his blaster held up in readiness. "There's still a chance, mind you. All we would need to do is remove one single obstacle."

She chuckled. "I told you before, Draahg. You will never measure up to Quinn. Stop trying. It's pitiful, really."

"Fool woman! Now I'll only delight in your destruction. Yours, and Vowrawn's, of course. He has mere minutes left to live." Draahg laughed in sad, pathetic machine-like tones. "You chased your vengeance all this way, only to be run down by mine!"

Quinn yelled when Draahg suddenly lifted Lusiel, sent her flying solidly into a nearby wall. Lusiel used the force to stop herself from hitting too hard. But she still impacted the rocky surface with hard, painful power. Quinn heard her yelp, saw her spin a hard glance at Draahg even as blood ran down the side of her face.

Then her hand whipped out, pushing back against the other Sith, propelling him through the air rather. Draahg wasn't as prepared as she'd been. He hit a pillar opposite from Lusiel hard enough to fill the chamber with a terrible and mighty boom of sound. The Entity cried out a happy sound, "Yes, kill him! His machinery powers the death field! Free my liberator!"

Lusiel was already leaping at her enemy. Draahg met her oncoming blow with his own red lightsaber, their blades shrilling sharply against each other in terrible cadence. They lashed at each other, with Draahg shouting repeated threats, swearing he'd decimate her, rip her limbs from her body, break her. Lusiel only laughed, meeting his attacks with steady resolve, pressing him back even as he bashed at her with powerful strokes. He screamed, insanely rushing at her, but Lusiel stood firmly and swiped against his knee as he came within reach, forcing him to jump back.

That's when Quinn caught his eye again. The Imperial was frantically treating Vowrawn with a medical droid, keeping the Darth alive even through the power of Draahg's death field. Draahg growled at him, throwing a hard push with the force towards the captain. Quinn cried out as his body was driven through the air. He looked up, watched the wall coming towards his head, frantically tried shooting his blaster at Draahg even as he flew by.

Then he felt that presence in his mind, that part of his mind he knew now was really Lusiel, heard her crying out, "_No, not him, catch him_". He felt – _felt_ – Lusiel's force strength, felt that it stretched and reached out, felt it snap into form. He actually saw it, the shimmering barrier that caught him as if in a net. He felt himself stop moving, so suddenly in the middle of his forceful flight that his jaw snapped shut hard enough his teeth cut against the inside of his lower lip and blood welled in his mouth. He heard Lusiel crying out, looked over to see she was watching him, and her voice trilled, "_Yes!_" Then Draahg yelled at her, "So busy saving him, you forget yourself!" He leaped at her and she twisted to meet his attack.

Quinn wiggled against the force-hold that kept him thrust up into the air, trying to break loose. He was abruptly released and dropped unceremoniously and without any sort of grace straight to the ground. He grunted as he spit blood out onto the floor. He heard a strange sound come from Lusiel, glanced over at her. She was facing Draahg, so her back was to him. They stood frozen there, and Quinn frowned. What was happening? He struggled back to his feet.

Draahg laughed. Lusiel sneered at him, refusing to look down towards her abdomen, where just the tip of Draahg's lightsaber pierced her. "Is that all you have, you worthless piece of trash?"

"I knew you wanted me thrusting inside of you," Draahg chuckled.

But Lusiel only rolled her eyes.

Draahg looked over her shoulder, watching Quinn. He smirked down at her. "What do you think it would do to him, if I was to tear you apart right in front of him? That kind of pain might be delicious. I'd savor it."

"You're a fool, Draahg. You know that, don't you? You should've pressed your advantage while you still had it." Lusiel shook her head.

Then she raised a booted foot and sent it flying with smooth and painful intensity into Draahg's groin. Standing so close, she was able to hit him quite forcefully just underneath his protective padding, nailing him squarely in the scrotum. Draahg actually squeeled, rearing back away from her and yanking his lightsaber free of its initial penetration.

Lusiel felt a gush of blood under her skin and knew abruptly the greatest damage was all inside. Whatever his weapon had torn, there was little outward sign of it. If she didn't finish this soon, the wound would prove mortal as she bled out.

That's why she didn't hesitate. Even as Draahg fell back onto the ground, Lusiel was already jumping. She landed on his head, each one of her booted feet on either side of his face. He glared up at her, groaning as he still cupped his pained groin with both hands. Lusiel shouted, raising her foot so she could smash her boot into his nose. Draahg shrieked again, wetly since blood was now running down into his mouth. She didn't hesitate, though. She stomped his face again. Then again. She didn't stop stomping, until his face was a messy pulp of blood and bone and her boot was soaked red.

Lusiel reeled suddenly, gasping as pain ripped through her lower stomach. She heard Darth Vowrawn fell over onto his knees, released suddenly from the death field that Draahg had compelled around him. The Entity crowed in terrible triumph, her voice singing out over the entire chamber. "And the Defiler saw it all! Such glorious effort!"

"My lord!" Quinn finally reached Lusiel, reaching out to grasp her elbow. She pulled away from him, though, watching Vowrawn. She couldn't allow the Darth to see such damage and come to believe her incapable of defeating Baras. She needed his support.

Besides, she thought. Quinn hated her now for failing him. She couldn't stand for him to touch her when he hated her like that. But she ached so badly, enough that she strained to maintain her mental barriers, especially with him standing there so closely and frowning at her as he ran his gaze up and down her frame. That's the only reason he heard her tired, sad little whisper in his mind right then, heard her say, "_Don't hate me anymore_."

Quinn jerked, staring at her in shocked dismay. He was startled enough he didn't notice she winced in pain as she turned to face Vowrawn. Instead, he whispered her name, reached for her. But Lusiel staggered past him towards the Darth. He practically stumbled in his haste to follow her.

Darth Vowrawn was almost dancing, as if his earlier ordeal had never happened. "Such an intense finish! I thought surely I would die. I've never felt pain like that! You provide such wonderful entertainment, Wrath!"

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Just wait until I defeat Baras."

"Oh, what a thought. But let's enjoy this thoroughly, first." Vowrawn chuckled as he turned to face the Entity again. "Baras must be twisting with fury right now. How wonderful."

Even Lusiel smiled, and nevermind the pain that persisted in her stomach. She watched as Vowrawn made his ritual motions only barely. Rather, she subtly touched against her wounded stomach, felt the hardening lump there where the blood was pooling. Behind her, Quinn shifted. He was increasingly uneasy as Lusiel's own distress mounted. She panted softly as she threw up more mental barriers to keep him unaware of her pain just a little while longer, long enough for Vowrawn to finish so that they could all leave.

That's when Vowrawn began crying out excitedly. "The final gate is lifted. You are free, Entity!" Lusiel watched as the Entity suddenly appeared directly in front of them in a shower of blood and shadow. The female figure regarded them, its sense of triumph and freedom palpable. "I am free! And grateful! Remember me, young one, to the Defiler." Lusiel bowed her head, felt Quinn lowering himself in respectful obeisance behind her. The the Entity was … just gone. She blinked as she looked around.

Vowrawn was elated. "You have been a revelation, Wrath! I have rarely met a more remarkable Sith. There is no better time for you to take on Baras. Give me some days. And the Dark Council will be prepared. I will usher you in, then."

Lusiel nodded towards him, watched as Vowrawn preceeded her from the Chamber. She was quite proud of herself. She only stumbled one time as she followed him out of the door.

* * *

Quinn followed Lusiel into the lounge of the ship. Jaesa was perched on the edge of the lounge seat, watching them with hard eyes that glittered coldly like cold golden coins from some ancient civilization. Pierce was leaning against the wall next to her, his boot placed squarely on the edge of her robe on the floor. Apparently, he was striving to keep things from becoming overtly violent.

Quinn sighed. He mumbled towards Lusiel, "My lord. We must speak. Now."

Vette blustered. "You didn't talk to her yet? Are you joking?"

He glared at the twi'lek, opened his mouth to chastise her. But he suddenly noticed Lusiel swaying as she stood still in front of him. He frowned. "My lord?" He reached for her but she turned around slowly to face him. Her face was completely white making her eyes seem huge and black as she stared at him, glassy-eyed. Sweat was beading her forehead and she was in obvious and terrible pain. He murmured, asking her what was wrong.

She stared at him. Then she whispered to him. She said, "Malavai … catch me."

"Lusiel!"

He actually sounded worried, she thought, as she fell into the dark.

* * *

**Quick note:**

**I recently discovered Quinn's actual age, according to the SWTOR Encyclopedia. The man's 37 years old, if you guys can believe it! Now, I thought for a bit that ****_MY_**** Quinn wouldn't be so much older than my warrior. But I also think his age makes some sort of sense, given his military experience. He'd at least be in his mid to late thirties, if he were in the US Army, anyway. So 37 it is. And for those wondering ... Lusiel is actually 21 at this point in my story/game.**

**So, yep, he robbed the cradle, lol.**

**This fight with Draahg is, imo, much harder even that the Baras confrontation. I included the "dirty kick" here, only because I was forced to finally use my "heroic moment" abilities in order to take Draahg down. Thought it would make for an amusing inclusion during the telling, here.**

**Also, per a couple of PM's I received. I already have the prologue written up for my next fanfic, but I won't post it until I'm finished with Lusiel's story. The only thing I'll say right now is that it's not someone I've hinted about in ****_this_**** story, lol. Their fanfics will come later.**


	115. Chapter 113

Vette crept silently into the medical bay, holding a plate with several pieces of Endwa, a popular Corellian dish with fried meat slathered in an orange and sweet gravy. Quinn didn't look at her as she entered, even though she knew he was aware of her. He only sighed as he reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose again, rubbing his face tiredly.

She glanced around the bay as she settled the plate on one of the bare surfaces. The room was dark and quiet, with the only light coming from the kolto tank spilling across the floor and the only sound the beeping of the tank's instrumentation. Quinn was seated in a chair he'd collapsed into shortly after he'd settled Lusiel into the tank. He'd been sitting there ever since, for hours now, ignoring the rest of them unless they asked about her welfare. Then he'd say she was fine and would be well, before going right back to watching her silently.

"You should eat, Quinn." Vette said, finally. But he didn't move, except to shrug. So Vette took to pulling and yanking another chair into place aside Quinn's, settling into place next to him so she could stare up at Lusiel, as well.

The Sith floated unconscious, with a large tube jutting into her mouth. Her hair had been loosely tied back but some tendrils floated free to spread out and around her head, waving in the kolto liquid bath like some kind of strange sea plant. The rest of her body was covered in a loose shift that had become translucent in the liquid, but her arms were clasping her frame, even in her unconscious state, so it was nearly impossible to really see her entire body.

"She doesn't look overly dangerous when she's floating in there." Vette chuckled as she nodded towards the tank. Quinn remained still for a moment, then he glanced at Vette.

"She's pregnant."

Vette gasped, regarded him with a shocked and uneasy expression. "Are you serious? But how …?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow at the twi'lek.

"Okay, never mind how. I only meant … well, she was stabbed in the stomach, wasn't she?"

"In the liver, yes. Her uterus wasn't disrupted at all. The fact the child is still so new helped. She's too small to have been effected."

"She?"

Quinn spoke softly in a pleased tone. "Lusiel dreamed of our daughter weeks ago."

Vette shook her head, slightly awed. "Wow. Well. Maybe you should've been more careful."

He shrugged. "We both wanted it so much, there seemed no point in preventing it."

"No point? Uh … there's a scary-assed Darth trying to kill us all!"

Quinn's eyes went dark with menace all of a sudden. "Baras won't be a matter of concern for much longer. Darth Vowrawn assured us the Council will convene in mere days. Lusiel will confront Baras, then."

Vette stared at him. "But if she's pregnant, should she be fighting?"

She saw him wince and wanted to cry all of a sudden. It occurred to her Quinn wanted nothing more than to wrap Lusiel into some sort of soft cotton wrap, protect her utterly, spirit her away where no one could find her, let alone strike at her. Instead, he was going to be forced to watch as his pregnant wife fought for her life in front of the entire Dark Council. Shit, it was tough to love a Sith, she thought, suddenly hoping she herself was never that dumb.

"Well, hell," Vette muttered as she looked up at Lusiel, still floating silently in her kolto bath. She'd been that dumb ages ago, she realized. Cause she'd really hate it if she lost Lusiel now. Lusiel was the greatest friend she'd ever had, better even than Risha, perhaps. She looked back at Quinn. "So what's the plan, then? Cause I know you have one. I doubt you go to the refresher without a plan, Quinn."

He sighed, refused to rise to her baiting. He just watched Lusiel, thoughtful. "We focus on the most pressing threats for now, Vette. I have to repair the damage that's been done to Lusiel. She must be strong enough to face Baras and defeat him."

Vette eyed him, knew he wasn't talking about the puncture wound to her stomach that kept her confined to a kolto tank for the next few hours at least. "So … uh … can you actually hear her thoughts right now?"

"No. She's well able to block me when she wants to. She hasn't really allowed me that close to her since I hurt her." Quinn looked away from the tank, then. "She actually thinks I hate her."

Vette bit her lip to keep from laughing at the bewildered tone Quinn used. He looked at her, sharply. She shrugged back at him. "What? It's funny you can't imagine she'd jump to the most extreme possibility where you're concerned. It's not like you've ever really been angry with her before. And, heck, she's only a year older than me! Women, especially when we're young, tend to be creatures of extremes."

He shook his head. "I should have made her listen to me."

"Yea, I can see how that would've worked out so wonderfully. Not that we have enough space in the kolto tank, either." Vette chuckled. Quinn shot her a dark look. "Whatever. Fact remains what you should've done and actually did are two different things. Stop worrying about the crap you can't change, though."

Quinn sighed. Vette got up and trundled her chair back to its regular location. Then she plunked the plate of food down onto Quinn's lap. "Eat, captain. You're going to need it." Vette eyed him carefully. "I'm trying to imagine you as a father. You know what? I think you'll actually be pretty good at it."

He shook his head. "At least one of us does."

"Bah! What's to worry about? A kid with your smarts and Lusiel's power couldn't possibly cause any enormous problems." She laughed when Quinn went white. She actually skipped out of the medical bay.

* * *

**I'm actually leery of making any really huge assumptions as to what will happen in the course of the story beyond the three chapters Bioware has already given us. The only reason I opted to go along with this concept, that Lusiel will close out the story pregnant with her first child, is that the developers presented the possibility at the end of most of the romance arcs, including the warrior's. I'm going to cross my fingers and hope Bioware includes the chance for offspring when the story continues.**

**Please, Bioware! Don't let me down!**


	116. Chapter 114

Lusiel emerged from the refresher holding a bright red drying cloth around her small frame as her hair dripped steadily down her backside, to find Quinn sitting calmly at the foot of the bed, watching her. He was dressed only casually, in only a pale white shirt and black pants. His feet were bare, even.

She sighed. He couldn't wait until she was dried and dressed, she thought. Just great.

She looked around. When she'd sensed him coming into their quarters, she'd thought he would be gathering together his things and leaving, the better to avoid her. But his uniforms remained tucked in the closet and his datapad and commlink had been placed carefully in the plate on top of the dresser where he normally stored them. She was confused.

"Come here, Lusiel." Quinn crooked a finger towards her, gesturing for her to approach him. Lusiel stiffened, holding the cloth tighter around herself. She lifted her chin proudly, "You say that like I'll actually obey you."

"It certainly would make this far simpler," he responded.

"You're not my master."

"That would make for an interesting game, though, you have to admit."

She looked at him as if he'd suddenly gone crazy, her expression so stunned he actually chuckled. She huffed, striding over to the dresser in search of clothes she could use to cover herself. But he climbed to his feet and started approaching her. Lusiel froze, watching him with suddenly wide eyes, holding that cloth as if it were a force barrier against him. And Quinn stopped, frowning at her.

"What is it, Lusiel? What's wrong?"

"You … I don't want you to _fuck_ me." She sneered at the ending, her nose curled up in apparent disgust. She tried to sound angry and strong, the way a Sith was supposed to sound. But her eyes were dull with pain. She was terrified he'd touch her like that, without feeling or care, as if he had to rather than wanted to. "Just … don't."

Quinn clenched his eyes closed, trying to hide from the evidence of the pain he'd caused her. He sighed, breathing roughly for several moments. Then he looked at her, utterly serious and firm as he spoke. "I have never _fucked_ you. Not even once. Every time I've touched you, that was me, loving you. If you let me touch you now, it will still be me, loving you." He sighed. "Lusiel, you could kill me, and I'd _die_ - loving you."

Lusiel looked away from him, stared at the wall across from where they stood, ignoring him. He stretched out a hand, laid it against her shoulder, softly. She sighed, then, as she felt his fingers running down her arm so that he could grasp her fingers in between his own. "Now, come here, Lusiel." He pulled her and she let him, numbly following him towards the bed.

He settled back down at the foot of the bed, reaching for the cloth she was still clutching against herself. He grunted, moved her fingers aside, then grasped the cloth and moved it away, baring her to his gaze. Lusiel whimpered. Then she caught her lip between her teeth, biting herself to keep from making any noise. She glared at him. "I don't know what you're doing. You hate me! I hurt you, failed you."

He shrugged. "I have no idea how to hate you, actually. I used to try not to like you. Wasn't able to accomplish even that much."

"You tried not to like me?"

"You didn't notice?" He rolled his eyes. "I thought your flirting was merely a game, that you only sought to affect my feelings, to entice me. I didn't really believe you could actually want me, at least not more than as a mere plaything. I can harly compare to a true Sith, someone of power and ability."

She pouted. "Well. It _was_ a game."

"Oh. So then. Did I win?"

Lusiel just looked at him. He was smiling at her once again, his eyes alight with pleasure as she watched him. She ran her gaze across his face and brow, down over his features, to consider his frame, his arms and hands that were slowly smoothing the red cloth across and over her skin, drying her, and his legs that were spread wide so that he could pull her body in between his knees, tucking her against him, until her thighs were pressed up against his warm groin. She reached up to place her hands on his shoulders, clenched her fingers against them. She watched him shut his eyes, savoring the feel of her hands on him, that she was reaching out to him. They they opened once again so that he could see her.

She smiled. "Are you asking me if I lost?"

"Did you?"

She frowned, her eyes suddenly darkening. "I thought I had."

"Hmmm. And when was this? When did you think you'd lost me, Lusiel?"

She looked away. But he fingered her chin, turning her back to face him again. She sighed, "You make me feel like I'm not a Sith."

He smiled. "You have no idea how often I have to remind myself you're a Sith, actually. I've always found it so easy to forget." He reached his arms around her, running his hands down to cup her back side and kneed against her. "To me, you're just a _woman_."

Lusiel groaned.

"Answer the question, Lusiel."

"You know when."

He shook his head. "I was angry at you."

"You hated me."

"No. Never. Lusiel, sometimes I'll be angry. But I'll _never_ hate you."

She swallowed. "I failed you."

"No more than I failed you."

"You didn't."

He shrugged. "Nor did you."

"But…"

"Lusiel, we could bandy this back and forth as if we were playing some kind of Pong game. Are we really going to spend the next few hours like that? I can think of several things I'd rather do."

She grinned. "Several?"

He hummed. His eyes slowly turned that unique shade of black-blue that she adored so much. "Quite a few, actually." She pushed against his shoulders until he leaned back to incline against the bed and watch as she climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs so that her warm center pressed up against his belly. He hissed.

"Are you going to let me in, now? I was only getting used to hearing you in my head, after all, and then you shut me out." Quinn rocked himself against her, so that her breasts rubbed up against his chest. He groaned when she ran her hands up to tangle them into the hair at the back of his head, holding onto him as she canted her hips against him.

"I thought you didn't want me there."

"And now you know the truth."

She leaned down to look him in the eyes. "Really?"

"Yes. Really. Now, Lusiel. Let me feel you again." He moaned as he sensed her reaching out to him along that mental pathway, softly touching his mind again, heard her whispering his name again, heard, "_Malavai_," like a sigh against his very self. "Ah, Lusiel. You have no idea how much peace you gave me when I needed it most. When Baras had his claws embedded in me. Touching you, feeling you touch me – it was everything comforting."

"I'll make him pay, Malavai. I'll destroy him."

He opened his eyes, regarded her solemnly. "Yes. And I'll watch you do it. It will be incredible to watch you bring him to his final end, even as your legacy grows inside of you, to know I put it there, made it in you." He felt even harder as he pressed against her, groaned heavily, rocked himself more firmly.

"Malavai?" She was gasping, stunned.

He chuckled. "Usually the mother tells the father, you know. How comforting to know ours is truly a unique romance." He gripped her around the hips, standing suddenly, holding her tucked against him, before spinning her around to lay her down on her back against the bed. He looked down at her as he began pulling his shirt over his head, yanked his pants loose and kicked them off. She was gaping down the length of her body, looking at her soft, still flat belly and clutching at it. Then she looked at him, worried suddenly.

"Is she … okay? Draahg stabbed me!"

He stepped closer to the bed, until his knees bumped against the cushion. Then he leaned over to press his lips against her stomach, kissed the spot only barely showing a red line, that last evidence of her wounding against Draahg's lightsaber. "I'm rather glad you didn't see me when I first detected her, there, trying to determine where and how you were wounded. I was … frightened. But, no, Lusiel. She's fine." He looked back up at her, his eyes deadly serious. "I'll kill anyone who tries to change that."

She ran her fingers along his brow. "We'll protect her together."

"Starting with Baras."

"Yes. Does anyone else know?"

He nuzzled her stomach, edging down towards the vee between her legs. "Vette."

"Oh. That's fine, then." Lusiel sighed. "Oh, yes. Like that. Just there." She tossed her head back and forth against the bed as he licked against her clit. She began to whine in agitated pleasure as he suckled her, wiggled her clit against his tongue, then dipped down to kiss and lick her slit, too. He moaned into her sex and the vibration sent a spattering of intense sensation through her, so that she arched her back, pushing herself against his mouth.

She continued moaning. "We'll have to come up with plans. Ways to keep her safe … Oh. Yes." He rubbed his cheek against her inner thigh, then returned to his feast of her sex, savoring the cream that came from her. "Did I tell you … about Gratham? I didn't, I know I didn't. I should have."

"Who is he?"

"Sith. Ahhh. I killed his son. Years ago. Oh. Hunter told me … Gratham has a bounty on my … yes! On my firstborn."

Quinn softly loosened his lips from around her clit, leaning back to look up at her. He came to his knees, crouching between her spread legs. "I'm already preparing careful plans to ensure that you're both safe. Now. I want to be inside of you. I want you to put me there." His eyes were gleaming darkly at her. Lusiel thrilled. She reached out for him, grasped his erection and rubbed him smoothly for several long moments, listened as he gasped and hissed, watched as his eyes grew darker and darker with his lust.

"Lusiel. Do it. Now."

"I'll come soon."

"Not until I'm inside. I want to feel it."

"What does it feel like?"

He closed his eyes, rocked his hips into her pumping fingers, groaned. "It feels … like coming home. Do it, Lusiel!"

She whimpered as she pressed the tip of him against her slit, rubbed him there. He moaned, looked down to watch her - watch her small, pale hand wrapped around his flesh, watch as the head of his cock slipped just inside, watch the way the sweet, dewy lips of her sex parted and stretched around him as he began to slide his length all the way into her.

Quinn reached under her ass, grasping her cheeks so that he could raise her hips higher against him as he began to thrust into her. It took only three strokes of his cock against her inner muscles, just three taps against her sweet little cervix, before he felt her orgasm washing against his hardness. Her liquid release coated her sex and his inner thighs, especially as he continued thrusting, groaning heatedly into silence of the room.

"So fast, Lusiel."

"Feels so good."

"Let me feel it again."

He thrust harder against her, faster. She watched him, sighing, keening every so often. But she never stopped watching him. His eyes were as dark as midnight, with mere slivers of blue around the pupils, and they gleamed down at her. He pushed himself into her as deep and hard as he could possibly go, again and again, and his gaze smouldered with the power of his feelings. She could feel how strongly he felt, almost as strong as his body felt moving over her, into her.

So she called to him, wailed his name across their bond. She exhulted in the intensity of his emotions, the power of his feelings, and let the compelling fervency of the sensations lift and carry her into another orgasm. She felt it burst upon her, cried aloud to the open room, screamed his name. And he answered, pushing inside of her, thrusting hard, before stopping with his cock butted up against her soft cervical center. And he came, his orgasm surging and breaking against the soft tissues inside of her.

"_Lusiel! Yes, gods! I love you!_"

She laughed in delight as his voice sounded in her head, reaching up to hold him as he collapsed down upon her, breathing madly. She held him against her, happily listening as his heartbeat slowed and his breathing eased. Until he finally softened and rolled off her to lay next to her. He yanked her up against himself, though, refusing to let her move too far away. Where he couldn't touch her. That was too far away right then.

She smiled into the darkening room. "We should have discussions like this more often."

"Every day." It sounded like he was making her a promise.

"I'd like that."

"Of course. Whatever you need. Because I love giving you what you need."

* * *

**For those interested, I did find mention of Pong showing up in Star Wars. According to Wookiepedia:**

_**Pong was a game where players manipulated two bars inside a box to bounce a ball in between them. A version of pong was available to Subject 1157 inside his cloning tank to test his reflexes in the Star Wars: The Force Unleashed II video game produced by Lucas Arts in 2010. The game was projected on the inside of the cloning tank, and players could have unlocked "visions" which featured video from the game.**_


	117. Chapter 115

The red dust of Korriban was swirling madly in the air as the shuttle touched down at the landing pad. Quinn followed his lord respectfully down the ramp of the shuttle. He stepped closer as the storm's winds whipped around them suddenly, blocking the natural force as much as possible as Lusiel proceeded towards the doors of the Sith Academy.

He eyed the group gathered there carefully, gauging them for risk to Lusiel's safety. He disregarded the red-robed guards, especially as they came to deferential attention when Lusiel stepped inside the doorway. But the other two men were a different matter.

"Lord Rathari. It's been a long time since we last met." Lusiel nodded towards the Sith, watched as he bowed slightly in return.

"The day has finally arrived, Lord Lusiel. I will stand with you, to witness your battle with Darth Baras. As it should be. My presence will assure the Council you have Sith support." Then he smiled, grimly. "And I get to hear Baras scream."

Tremel couldn't hold back his curiosity any further. He'd been eyeing Quinn hard enough to make the Imperial purely uncomfortable. "You must be Captain Quinn. I'm rather glad we're finally meeting." He looked at Lusiel. "Now you won't have to stash your armor when we meet, hmm?"

"Hopefully it means I don't have to travel to Nar Shaddaa as much anymore. Ever again, if I can help it." Lusiel shook her head, then she held out a hand to touch Quinn's elbow, soothed his confusion through their bond. "_My old teacher, someone I spared such a long time ago, thwarting Baras._"

Tremel eyed them both carefully, noted the way Quinn's frown smoothed out after a moment's pause. "Fascinating to watch it." Quinn shot him a pointed look, but Tremel raised a hand. "Please. It's bad enough _she_ still shoots me dirty looks for bidding her to do it without warning of the risk to your life. Don't you start, too."

"I always follow my lord's direction." Quinn retorted in the calm, even tone so common to Imperials.

Tremel shot a glare towards Lusiel. "You told him to say that."

"There was no need. He's only being honest," Lusiel shrugged, so that Tremel shook his head in exasperation.

Rathari glanced at Quinn, considering. "It should perhaps be better served if your apprentice was in attendance, Lord Lusiel. It would be a greater show of Sith strength, I would think."

Lusiel replied with sharpness. "No. Darth Baras will see Quinn with me and he'll know I beat him, even before the fight commences. He tried so hard to deny me that prize, after all. Besides." She shrugged, glancing around at the still silent and ever-present guards. "It's just as important that they know I have solid Imperial support, as well."

Tremel hummed approvingly as the guards stiffened proudly into attention. "You've always been unusual a Sith when it came to our soldiers. Not surprising, perhaps. The daughter of an Imperial hero, who's gone on to wed an Imperial officer herself." He glanced at Rathari. "The Council has already considered your alliances in that regard, noted your attentions and loyalties, of course. It's hardly worth hiding at this point."

Lusiel shrugged. "I've never thought it should be hidden. Our soldiers serve us faithfully. Their commitment and duty should be recognized." She noted the solid esteem that marked the stance of their guards, then, as their group began moving towards the Council chamber.

Darth Vowrawn met them in the antechamber outside the room where the Council had gathered. Quinn stepped closer to her as they both considered the rumbling sound of Darth Baras' voice coming from behind the closed doors.

"Ah, you're here! Anticipation fills my veins with fire! I feel a hundred years younger!" He leaned closer. "Darth Baras hasn't shut up since the earliest hours this morning. I can not wait to see the look on his face when I introduce you to the Council."

Lusiel waved a hand. "You should have a holocam ready. Preserve the moment for posterity."

Vowrawn laughed. "Ha! If only we could sell tickets! I really do like you, Wrath. I'm not sure I've had this much fun in as many years." He looked around at the rest of the group, chuckled. "Each one of your adherents, here, is one who's been targeted and abused by Darth Baras himself. He'll make note of it, mind you."

"So long as he notes I've always despised him and long planned his destruction." Lusiel crossed her arms across her chest as she nodded towards the Darth. "I have won already. All that's left is to bury him for good."

"You are perfection! I almost wish I was younger and you were not already married." Vowrawn eyed Quinn carefully. "Alas. I can only admire you from afar. I suppose, we should bring my quite fashionable tardiness to a close."

Lusiel sighed, feeling the exhilaration thrill through her. "_At last! It's time!_" She sang through her bond with Quinn, felt his response, the gladness that it would finally be over. That, and the caution, too. So much was riding on this fight. So much to gain but so much to lose, too. She breathed in and out, focusing herself. "I have never felt more alive, my lord."

Vowrawn smiled at her. "Lead the way."

They fell into step behind her as she approached the door. The red-robed guards at the doorway bowed low at her approach, sinking down to a knee as their heads lowered. Even Darth Vowrawn was caught by surprise. He sighed to Tremel, "It's her beautiful face, it must be." But Lusiel only regarded the men in their deferential pose, silent and firm. Then she stepped between them, striding through the door to confront her enemy.

Darth Baras was situated in the very center of the chamber, in the middle of the circle composed of the large stone seats cut throne-like all around him. Tremendous pillars towered up and over the Council circle, draped with flowing flags emblazoned with the Emperor's mark. The Council itself was gathered together, with many of the seats occupied, some via holo. Baras quieted as they entered, standing silently with his back to them, apparently listening to the stride of their various boots moving into the room.

Quinn grunted softly as he halted just inside and to the right of the doorway, as Tremel and Rathari moved to the left. The three men stood respectfully, quiet and firm in their allegiance to Lusiel's effort. Lusiel herself continued striding ahead, moving steadily, with Darth Vowrawn just behind her to demonstrate his support of her. She strode confidently forward until she was standing just behind her old master, close enough to spit on him if she chose.

Baras boomed aloud then. "That had better be Darth Vowrawn coming through those doors."

Lusiel sneered at his back. "Don't pretend you were expecting me, Baras."

Darth Marr leaned his shoulders back against the cushioned stone of his seat, his thunderous voice resonating in the air as he spoke. "Interesting." Lusiel shot him a glance, taking in his looming presence, his large body encased in a hard shell of red and black armor, and his face obscured behind a cruel-looking mask. Darth Marr was the Lord who ruled the Sphere of Defense of the Empire, the predominant leader of the entire Council itself, especially as the war with the Republic raged across the galaxy.

The younger figure of Darth Ravage waved one of his hands just then, frowning at Vowrawn. "This isn't the time for one of your games, Vowrawn." Ravage was one of those who believed and supported Baras in his bid for the title of Voice, Vowrawn had explained. Not surprising, perhaps, for the Lord who ruled over Expansion and Diplomacy for the Empire.

It was Marr who was unconvinced, though. He seemed inclined to wait and watch the entire course play out, in fact. From what Vowrawn had told her, Marr's intransience had proven purely frustrating for Baras, a fact which seemed to delight Vowrawn immensely. He'd advised Lusiel to sway Marr before anyone else. "Win Marr to your side, young Wrath, and the rest of the Council will follow you," Vowrawn had said.

It was strength that Marr respected above all else. So it would be strength she showed today. That's why she stared Baras down, not looking anywhere else as she intoned her stance. "I am the Emperor's Wrath. Chosen by the Supreme Master himself. I know his will. I know that Baras is not the Voice." She leaned forward, intent on Baras. "And I know the Emperor is displeased with this play Baras has foisted on you all."

Vowrawn retreated to his own seat, turning to face the rest of his fellows. "Listen to truth! You are the victims of a cruel and deceitful power grab. Baras has sought to usurp a place, to use our Council to achieve his own ends. He has reduced us down to the status of mere gulls."

"Your desperation is obvious, Vowrawn. I can not imagine what reason compels you – greed or jealousy, perhaps. But you've refused to see reason!" Baras sneered towards Vowrawn. "The Dark Council is wise enough to see through your machinations, however. Because this … _child_ is not our Emperor's Wrath. She is merely your illusion!"

"Careful, Baras. Continue as you are and we'll come to think you envious of Lord Lusiel's youth, as much as her veracity!" Vowrawn chuckled.

Baras snorted. "Councilors, the Emperor will inform me what is to be done with Vowrawn. For now, assist me in destroying this rabble!"

Lusiel looked towards Darth Marr, and directed her words at him, particularly. "Baras seeks your assistance, because he knows I speak truly. He knows the Emperor would not have selected any Sith other than one of strength and will to be his Wrath." She glared at Baras. "He knows I can defeat him and his pathetic aspiration towards a status he is not fit for."

Baras almost spit at her in his anger. "Look at who she gathers around her, those who support her, to see why she can't be the Wrath! Overseer Tremel, a base coward who tried to undermine the purity of our training process …"

Lusiel interjected. "Who saw true strength and seized it when you would have ignored it."

Baras glared. "And Lord Rathari, who thumbed his nose at our traditions and got it bloodied like a disobedient dog."

"Who acted boldly and audaciously to further the aims of the Empire, rather than skulk around like you."

"And, of course, Captain Quinn. Can you even be sure he's loyal to you, child, and not me?"

She laughed outloud. "Why? Did you so enjoy toying with his mind after he flouted your briberies, Baras? A loyal Imperial officer you could not manage to convince except through a trick of the Force. It's your own petty maneuvers that show the true desperation, Baras." Lusiel rolled her eyes. "I myself do not require such devices to secure a man's loyalty. I'm stronger than you."

Baras quivered angrily. Darth Ravage frowned as he watched them. "The challenger is also supported by Darth Vowrawn, one of our own. Now, I have no doubt about you, Baras. But you must swat this gnat quickly, so that we may continue our business."

Darth Marr merely grunted.

Lusiel squared herself, gathering her strength as Baras marched over to face her. "_Finally! I can kill him, at last! I can ruin and destroy him in front of them all!_" But Baras was still rambling. "Fine. The master will grant the slave's last request. The Emperor calls for your death, Lusiel! Attack me if you dare!"

She sneered at him. "I was never, nor shall I ever be, your slave. And I'll prove it now."

Lusiel flung out the force, catching Baras up and sending him flying. She leapt after him, flying at him with the crimson of her lightsaber peeling through the air. But he met her forcefully, tossing her away from him hard enough the air was beaten from her lungs when she hit the ground. Lusiel gasped as she looked up in time to see Baras leaping through the air at her, his robes twisting around him. She rolled to her feet rapidly, bringing her lightsaber up just in time to meet Baras' crushing attacks.

She danced around her old master, crooning her song, lifting her blade in brief flurrying jabs and prods against Baras' large frame. She toyed with him, enough he finally roared an awful shout at her, leaving her dazed while he lashed out with his lightsaber and struck against her soft shoulder. The pain jerked her back to awareness and she hissed, reaching out to punch Baras against the side of his head where his helmet was clasped shut. The chamber echoed with the clanking cry of her fist against the metal.

The Councilors shifted in their seats, intently watching the battle as it raged back and forth before them. The melody of their respective lightsabers resonated in the space, the clash and pull of their knelling blows ringing. But Baras tired quickly. Lusiel's motions were fiery in their precision, extraordinary in their exactitude. And she simply did not quit, pushing back against everything Baras brought to bear against her and standing strong even in the face of his growing anger.

Baras suddenly stopped, facing Lusiel as he panted tiredly. She eyed him bitterly, the red glow of her lightsaber highlighting her creamy features. Baras reached up to unclasp his helmet, letting it drop to the ground with a loud metallic clatter of sound. Lusiel frowned as she regarded his overly pale face, his bald pate gleaming white in the low light of the chamber. He began to laugh at her, then, just before his hands shot out and lightning – of all things, lightning! – came at her. She raised her lightsaber in time, watched as the energy of her blade crackled against the force of the purple lightning.

Baras whined, then. "Had enough? Child! Can you feel your grip on life slipping? Why do you persist in this futile gesture of vengeance? Was the blow against your lover that great, that you'd go to this length, to throw away your life even? Only let go, and I will grant you the peace of death."

She snarled back at him, her face lit up by the electrical static still sparking along her blade. "Peace is a lie, Baras. And you're the greatest liar I've ever known. Give up the bravado. No one's buying it."

Baras leaned back, dropping his hands. "Just being sporting. I would think you'd appreciate the chance to catch your breath." He looked towards Darth Vowrawn. "Your champion is failing, Vowrawn. And you'll be next."

Vowrawn laughed, pointedly regarding Lusiel's strong, determined stance. "Tell me, Baras. Is that coming from you or the Emperor? It's hard to tell the difference."

"Do not mock me, fop!" He actually did spit this time, glaring at Lusiel. "Your patron just ensured that your suffering will be immense. Do you hear that, Quinn? It will be as I warned you! She'll be destroyed! She'll not die so easily today!"

That's when Lusiel felt the grip of the Force wrapping her in a choking hold. The blackness inked over and around her, holding her in place, freezing her. It settled across her entire form, enough that she felt her breaths coming low and hard as she fought to inhale through her growing panic. She felt grasped, controlled, and she could hear Baras laughing even as she struggled, alone. Baras was ranting, "I'll show them you're weak, prove you lack the ability to control anything, not even yourself! Once you lose yourself in the madness, I'll cut you down easily, simply!"

Then she felt him. Heard him. The bond leaped and snapped between them, his feelings of care, concern, protectiveness, and desire – all of it, in an instant, wholly hers. Her desperate call for help, he answered. With his presence, his anger, his hate. Quinn called to her. "_Kill him, Lusiel! Kill him now! Or I will!_"

And Lusiel descended into the depths of the Force's rage, exhulted in it. Her eyes sparked crimson, her skin glowed with it. She writhed in its glory, cried out in its power. Only this time she wasn't alone. Quinn was there with her – and his own eyes gleamed with the darkest pools of red rage, his own skin sparked with the cerise glow of Lusiel's Force strength. He cried out, a wild masculine growl that filled the chamber. And Tremel yelled excitedly above it all, watching as the girl he'd taught and guided for so many years finally found her center, watching as she finally came into her power. "Yes, Lusiel! You have it! It's perfect!"

Baras leaped back, stunned. Lusiel eyed him in terrible raging splendor, like a wild predator eyeing a rodent it was intent on devouring. Her control was incredible, the strength of her rage overwhelming. The Councilors circling the chamber felt the awesome force of it, almost like they would gazing into the incredible energy of a burning star. They watched as she began to stalk Baras, watched as he stumbled back in a mad rush, turning to them to demand their help.

"You! All of you! You have to kill this fool, this upstart whelp! Now, the Emperor commands it!" He spun, facing Marr, moving away from Lusiel's intent approach. "Darth Marr, strike on the Emperor's behalf or suffer his disfavor!"

Darth Marr stared silently at the red glow suffusing Lord Lusiel, breathed in the power and breadth of her rage, her force strength. Then he intoned, "I believe I'll take my chances with the Emperor's Wrath, Baras." The chamber rippled with the death knell of Baras' ambitions, echoing through the place like a bell that had been pealed. And one by one, the councilors nodded their agreement.

Baras roared. He twisted towards Ravage, glared at the Darth. "Ravage, have you taken leave of your sense, as well? Defend me! Defend the Voice!"

Ravage shook his head, inclined his chin towards Lusiel. "I will not stand in the path of the Emperor's Wrath."

Lusiel growled, a rumbling noise that moved through the chamber and was echoed by her force bonded husband. Baras glared at them all, promising retribution, even as he turned around to look Lusiel in the eye once again. He decried her, "I can not die!" But Lusiel only glared, stepping close to him. "I wash the galaxy clean of you, Baras."

She gripped the edge of Baras' armor, pulling him close enough she could whisper, "I hated you for so long. Now, I'm done." Baras glanced down when she placed the hilt of her lightsaber against his stomach. She heard him whimper. Then the song filled the air, the lightsaber trilling out its deadly tune, and Baras shrieked. Lusiel yanked her blade up, cutting him wide, before he finally fell backwards onto the floor in a soggy heap of blood and flesh.

Lusiel threw back her head, her arms held wide, her lightsaber aloft, crying out to the ceiling and air and all the Sith in the room of her victory, so long in coming, so glorious and real! "_Finished! He's dead!_" Quinn gasped, then, as Lusiel's energy finally dissipated, her rage easing, and she was left to pant softly, gazing down at Baras' corpse as her eyes returned to their normal dark brown.

Vowrawn leapt to his feet, crying out as if in echo of Lusiel's own force-bonded shout, "He's gone! The end of Baras! The air clears and I can breathe freely once again!" Lusiel turned to face him. "You've proven you are truly touched by the Emperor. The Dark Council knows the Emperor's Wrath has free reign. You are answerable only to our ultimate master."

Darth Marr droned his agreement. "You are acknowledged, Wrath. Your actions will not be challenged so long as they do not contradict our own."

Lusiel regarded Marr with steady and enduring strength of will. "I look forward to aiding the Dark Council in its most critical matters. You have only to seek my help."

Vowrawn bowed. "Then our power has heightened. Let the enemies of the Empire tremble! The Emperor's Wrath will consume them all!" Vowrawn's cry rose up over the chamber, resounding through the space with intention towards honor and accord. Each one of the Lords rose, standing tall in their place ringing the center of the room, where the Emperor's Wrath remained standing. Lusiel nodded to each one, grave and serious in her demeanor, before she finally turned and stalked back out.


	118. Epilogue

"Don't shoot that fool!" Quinn shouted out as he pulled back his own blaster just before loosing a bolt at the dark-haired man who had managed to penetrate the interior of the compound. The fellow actually shot Quinn a grin – a toothy grin, in fact! Quinn actually snorted disgustingly at him, in return.

Vette called out to the soldiers, rather, "Heck, they can shoot him in the leg. Or the ass! Come on, Quinn! He deserves it!"

The alarms were blaring angrily through the space, along with red lights that glared in a flashing cacophony of sensation. Khyriel pouted at the twi'lek. "Ah, Vette. You're breaking my heart. I thought you'd be so happy to see me."

She glared at him. "Is that before or after you terrified me into jumping dripping wet out of the bathing stall when the alarms started blaring?"

Luckily for the agent, the soldiers responded to Quinn's direction, rather than Vette's. They each backed up, raising up the muzzle of their blasters to avoid firing a bolt at the man. He waved at them, even as Quinn manipulated the controls in order to deactivate the alarms. That's when everyone could finally hear the soft laughter coming from the woman standing slightly behind Khyriel.

"Raina, please. You're embarrassing me." Khyriel glanced back at his wife with an eyebrow raised.

She laughed harder. "You wouldn't know the meaning of the word, actually. I'm just waiting for someone to shoot you in the ass."

"I thought you liked my ass."

Raina smiled at Vette. "Apparently she doesn't like it too much, though. And here I thought you'd impressed her, Khy. Perhaps you should work on your technique."

Just then, Pierce rushed into the room, his chest plate loose one buckle at the top, with his rifle upraised. Vette pointed at the agent, "Shoot him in the ass, Pierce!" But Quinn hissed at her.

"Stop it, Vette! You're going to get someone killed. Perhaps you'd like to explain to Lord Lusiel that we've managed to kill her brother. But not me!" Then he turned to glare at Pierce. "You were obviously not prepared, lieutenant. The damn twi'lek was here before you! I swear, if anything ever happens to my lord while you're busy getting your damn cock rubbed, I'll rip you apart, Pierce! Literally!"

The soldier blanched. "Noted, captain. You're right." He mumbled then, "I hate it when he's right."

"I'm normally right, lieutenant. Get used to it!" Quinn suddenly looked at the ceiling, exasperated. "Broonmark! I may not be able to see you but I know you're trying to sneak up on the agent! Stop it, before he seriously hurts you! I will not use pain meds if I have to repair your injuries."

Khyriel chuckled as a Talz suddenly appeared just behind him. Broonmark warbled an impressed tone when the Sith's brother raised up the dagger he was hiding from the Talz as he'd snuck forward. "Sith surprised me, too. Now I know you're her blood."

Khyriel glanced at Quinn, then. "They're good, Quinn. But it's important to test them, too. Otherwise they get complacent. And we can't have that, can we?"

Quinn scowled. "You got to the last chamber before Lord Lusiel's private space, dammit. It's unacceptable."

"If it helps, I can only think of perhaps two others who might have managed such a feat. Your security measures are extraordinary, Quinn." Khyriel shook his head. "I had to stop and treat Raina for a burn along the way, in fact."

"Two others is too many." Quinn remained angry as he faced his brother-in-law. He directed the crowd to disperse, blatantly ignoring Khyriel's whispered invitation to Vette for "playtime later". Then he gestured for Khyriel and Temple to follow him into the inner chambers where he'd frantically secured his wife before rushing to respond to the alarms.

Khyriel stopped suddenly when he finally caught sight of Lusiel. She was standing next to a table where she'd been eating her mid-day meal under Quinn's watchful gaze when the alarms started blaring. Now her hands were placed onto her hips so that she could properly glare at her brother as he ambled into the room. He was gaping at her, though.

"She's pregnant!" Raina burst out laughing again when Khyriel blurted the words. His dark eyes expressed amazement as he took in his sister's new, rounded shape.

At five months, Lusiel's pregnancy had progressed enough she no longer appeared in public. Quinn had ensured that rumors of her busy efforts at undermining the ever-popular revolts on the planet of Correlia, this one led by a fellow named Torvix, were liberally bandied about to explain why she was so long out of sight. He was gratified, seeing Khyriel's surprise, that her true vulnerability had remained secret so well.

Quinn nodded. "You were right, by the way. Pregnant women do crave ice cream quite regularly. We now have a standing order for denta bean ice cream. Which we have to smuggle in from Coruscant, unfortunately."

"…How?" Khyriel stumbled.

Raina guffawed at this point. "Are you serious? My dear, let me explain …"

But Lusiel held up a hand. "Please. Don't. I can't laugh right now. I'm required to be properly angry at my brother for his untimely arrival and the subsequent disruption of my daily routine as a result."

"You can't be mad at me! I always sneak up on you!"

"And I'm mad every time, Khy!"

"Yea, well. Now you're pregnant! So you're not allowed to be upset!"

"I think, actually, that means you're not allowed to make me upset."

Khyriel turned to glare at Quinn. "You made my sister pregnant."

Quinn leaned back on the heels of his feet, his hands clasped behind his back. Lusiel wasn't surprised he managed to maintain his serious expression and even tone as he replied. Gods, she loved his overly proper Imperial demeanor, she thought. "I enjoyed that part."

Lusiel smiled an evil and dangerous smirk towards Quinn. "Are you saying you're not enjoying this part?"

Khyriel laughed. "Even I know you'd better lie, Quinn!"

Lusiel and Quinn stared at each other for a long moment, as Khyriel stood there watching them. He wasn't certain but it seemed they were sharing some sort of message, even though neither one of them said a word. But, finally, Lusiel turned back to her brother and reached out to hug him. "Introduce me to your wife, Khy. It's been long enough."

Khyriel nodded, reaching out to grasp Raina's hand and pull her close to him. "Lou, this is my wife, Raina. Love, this is the Sith Lord, Lusiel, my sister. You can trust her."

Lusiel thought the introduction was strange enough, until she reached out her senses to consider the slim young woman standing in front her. Raina Temple was a dark-skinned human with short black hair. The markings on her leathered armor were indicative of the Chiss military, however. She glanced at Khyriel. "Was it her force sensitivity that made her hide among the Chiss?"

Raina exhaled nervously but Khyriel was relaxed as he responded. "Yes. Her father was a member of Imperial Intelligence. She's quite loyal to the Empire. Trust me."

"Of course. She can help me finish my lunch, then. Quinn keeps trying to force more food down me. It's becoming tiresome."

Quinn frowned. "You don't eat enough even when you're not pregnant."

Lusiel only smiled at him, though, as they all sat down around the table. She nodded at Temple to begin eating, even as she picked up her own eating utensils once again. Toovee had prepared her favorite meal, fish cakes served with Tatooine podpoppers and bristlemelon. The sweet fruit eased her craving for sugary food, although Quinn settled primarily on the fish.

Lusiel glanced at her brother, then. "I thought you might have come in order to check on the progress of my pregnancy. Except you didn't know about it until after you arrived. So tell me. What's the matter, Khy?"

"You do realize it took me weeks to even figure out where you were, Lou. You might have told me the truth during your last message." Khyriel pouted at her. But she shook her head at him.

"I will not allow any risk to my child, Khy. Quinn insisted and I agreed." Lusiel shrugged, then. "Which doesn't answer my question. You wouldn't have come all the way here only to berate me for not telling you where here was."

Khyriel leaned back in his chair. He looked at Lusiel with an overly serious expression, especially for him. The last time he'd looked at her like that … well, she couldn't remember the last time he'd looked at her like that. If he ever had. Her brother tended to maintain an air of complete nonchalance and utter hilarity on such a routine basis that few people knew he was even half so intelligent, articulate, and downright dangerous as he really was.

"I've discovered why mother killed father."

The statement struck Lusiel like a blow. She sat back, stunned. Quinn frowned at Khyriel, upset that the agent had upset his wife. But he remained silent as Lusiel processed the information. "I told you ages ago that it didn't matter to me. She was mad. I'm glad she's dead. I might have killed her myself if she hadn't flung herself out the window when she saw me."

"I would have helped you. Especially after what I've learned," Khyriel's eyes went so dark they almost looked black. Lusiel frowned, so he began explaining. "I discovered a record of a financial transaction that father had made earlier that night, before he arrived back at the apartments, where he confronted mother. It was a curious transaction, involving the transfer of a large sum into an account that, at first glance, seemed to be little more than charity. But the timing was strange, to me."

He nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It was that particular night, anyway. And the child the account was provided for had been injured only that day, too. Then I looked into the medical records. They all indicated the injuries were severe enough the child wasn't expected to survive. Further, the child disappeared from the hospital only hours before the transaction was made."

Lusiel still looked confused. But Quinn was starting to shake his head. He asked Khyriel, "You found the child, didn't you?"

Khyriel shrugged. "It was only slightly harder to find you, here."

Quinn sighed. "Thanks for that."

Khyriel didn't even smile. He only looked at Lusiel, grimly. "Her name is Kastiel. Apparently, father absconded with her from the hospital, transferred her to a clinic on the other side of Kaas City, in the lower reaches, the slums. An old teammate of his had established the clinic, there, and that man was the one who treated and cared for Kastiel after father took her to him."

"She remained, there. Grew up in the Lower Reaches, out of sight of any of us, and kept carefully so over the years. She started taking on odd jobs when she was old enough. Picked up a reputation as a pretty good guard and sometime hunter. Then, a few years ago, she entered some Great Hunt the Mandalorians host traditionally. And she won. She's their Champion, now, and fully adopted into their clans. Even married one of their warriors."

Khyriel nearly laughed, then. "I met him. He's more protective than Quinn, here, if you can believe it. Told me he'd 'crush my skull' if I did anything to hurt her."

Lusiel shook her head. "What does any of this have to do with mother and father?"

Khyriel sighed, his eyes becoming sad. To him, family was everything and blood was more valuable than anything. It was a lesson his father had imparted to him, once, and one he'd held true no matter how old he grew or how far removed from his father's guidance. "Because it was mother that paid for the men who injured that child. She paid for her to die, her and her siblings, too, Lusiel. Father came home that night to confront her for it. I suspect he was going to run with us, take us away from her. So she killed him, too."

"Why?"

"Because, Lusiel." Khyriel looked her straight in the eye. "That girl, Kastiel Blade? She's our sister. She's Lucian Phyre's daughter. Only three months younger than you, in fact."

* * *

**Closing thoughts and a request for help:**

**I really do credit Bioware's writers for creating a truly exceptional story where the Sith Warrior is concerned. To me, the story tells of a character utterly focused, determined. Even in my very first playthrough, I knew my warrior would have to fight and beat Baras in order to ultimately succeed in their very first and initial meeting, anyway. It was Malavai Quinn, though, with his betrayal during Chapter 3, that really garnered my attention.**

**That event makes the warrior story _interesting_, above and beyond the endless routine of "kill enemies, kill more enemies, kill still more enemies". I was pretty shocked by it, during my 1st playthrough, and tossed it around in my head for sometime. Ultimately, I came to believe that Quinn was made, somehow, to do what he did. Then, I wanted to tell the story that began to swirl around in my head. This fanfic is the result.**

**Believe it or not, though, the Warrior story isn't my favorite of the SWTOR classes. My first character, in fact, was a Smuggler and I still adore utterly that story. But it was the Bounty Hunter story that really took the cake, for me. I love it, every dang bit of it, from start to finish. My husband is sitting here laughing at me as I write, because I've started slathering Mandalorian stickers on my computer, I'm so hooked on the story of my hunter and her Mando lover. **

**That was the fanfic I really wanted to write and that I've tossed around the idea for just forever. But Quinn was determined his side get told first, and I respected that, hehe. Here's where I need some help, though. I've decide to write my Legacy story. That means a total of five Fics. For those wondering, I haven't been able to really incorporate the trooper (because she's Cathar), the inquisitor (because she's Pureblood), or the consular (because I just can't get into the story, sorry!) into my Legacy, so I figure they'll end up as allies or enemies of my Legacy characters eventually. We'll see.**

**Anyway, my third Fic will involve the smuggler. Who will also be introduced during my second Fic, mind you. I know some of you are wondering why I'd allude so strongly to the Knight and then hold off on that story so long. But I honestly wanted to be fair, with the story so dynamically opposed to the warrior story. And I wanted to get away from lightsabers for a while, shrug. Khy's story will be last. He's my Loki, my trickster. He's the character who will show up in all my Fics and basically bring everyone together by the end.**

**When it comes to the smuggler, though. I need to know if you think I should make that playthrough a male or female character. Seriously. I've done two successful playthroughs with the smuggler class. Because it's that fun, for one. And also because I'd deleted my one level 50 smuggler to make an agent and then, later, my Pub guild needed a healer. Long story short, I've played smuggler both as a female and a male. The story is good either way but it IS different depending on the gender, I think. **

**So please PM me with what you think. Should my next smuggler be a guy or a girl? If it's a girl, she'll romance Corso. My guy smuggler goes for Akavi Spaar, though. If you're confused, read above about the Mando fascination I've sunk into, lol. That, and he shudders every time he thinks about being a king of anything. The Corso romance, however, is absolutely adorable. Funny and engaging, too. But let me know what you think. Most votes either way will get it.**

**I'll introduce my smuggler during my hunter's run through Nar Shaddaa. So if you plan on sticking around, you can see him or her, there.**

**Thanks so very much for all your reading, your reviews, your PM's ... all of it's been awesome fun! I promise to keep it going. Take care!**


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